Dusk
by Paradoxically
Summary: Ever wonder what happened in between the last chapter and the Epilogue of New Moon? This story answers some of those questions. Beware, spoilers and fluff abound.
1. To Deceive

Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with Stephenie Meyer, Twilight, New Moon, etc, or the wonderful world that she has created, in which vampires don't have fangs and glitter like diamond dust. I can dream though, and "borrow" her characters and drag them into my own plot creations, since she's nice enough to allow me to do so. Hopefully they all make it through relatively intact!

A/N: This particular piece of fan-fiction takes place between the last chapter of New Moon and the Epilogue. It DOES contain spoilers, and any rating increase will be due to language and a certain hunting scene. Other than that though, I won't right about anything that will cause you to blush or feel the need to close the screen. I promise. At this point in time, "Dusk" is going through both the writing and the editing process. My new goal is to increase the length of the chapters (hopefully to an average of two pages a piece, in Word) and to make everything flow a little better. Be on the watch for new, sporadic additions!

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Chapter One- To Deceive

It was days later, and I still caught him glancing at me from the corners of his eyes, as if to make sure that I was still there, and still his Bella. It must have worried him that I had become quieter since our separation. Questions didn't fall from my mouth as they once did: a new hesitancy had entered my demeanor, and try as I might, I sometimes caught myself guarding against a second departure, even if I knew it would never come. But tonight, standing there in the dusky twilight of my backyard, it was easy to make believe that everything had always been this way. So quiet, so still. A perfectly calm night, with stars gleaming brightly in the midnight blue sky, fiercely defying the clouds that were beginning to roll on, blotting them out. And I was whole again, though the ghost of the chasm that had resided in my chest for so long still came back to haunt me in the depths of the night.

But for now, Edward was there, standing close behind me, with his cheek pressed tenderly against mine. I could feel the muscles move along his jaw line as he sang softly, feel the soft caress of his breath against my warm skin, the cold chill of his body. His arms were wrapped around my torso in a fierce, securing embrace. Every time I inhaled I could feel the weight of his limbs against the bottom of my ribcage, but I was oddly grateful for it: He was holding me together, like the thick bands of steel that wrap around a wooden barrel.

The tip of his nose grazed side of my face as he bent his head to kiss the hollow beneath my ear lightly. I shivered in delight: I had not realized how much I missed our closeness, that feeling that it was alright for me to be just Bella when I was with him: I had no need of excuses, no need to watch over someone else. I could indulge in just being myself and let all the other cares go.

"A penny for your thoughts?"

His voice was still that of an archangel, golden velvet laid over a steel frame. Sometimes that steel could be so very cold, worse than the most biting winter gale, but now it glowed with a gentle warmth. Slowly, I turned in his arms, placing my hands on his smooth, glacially cold chest. A soft, small smile crept over my lips, and I couldn't restrain it. I watched as the corners of his eyes lifted, but no smile ever touched_ his_ lips: Instead, a tinge of frustration formed his expression. It still bothered him that he was dependent on my voice to tell him what it was that I was thinking. I wondered if he thought that I didn't trust him enough to tell him the complete truth: He knew that I always gave him honest answers when he asked about my thoughts, but also that they were never complete. How could he know that I didn't tell him everything because I didn't want him to berate himself, weight himself down with guilt? I simply couldn't hurt him that way. He'd already done too much damage to himself for my sake. And I would do everything in my limited power to prevent himself from further doing so.

Even through my reverie, I could see the beginnings of impatience creeping into the set of his mouth, so I answered quickly, forcing a playful tone into my voice.

"It's daring to be this close together when Charlie _has _to be sitting at the kitchen window watching us."

It wasn't a lie. Not completely. I had learned to be cautious in the last few days: My father watched me constantly, and glowered at Edward every time he dared show his face. Consequently, Charlie and his reluctance to see me with Edward was always on my mind. Just not at the forefront.

Edward chuckled softly. "I think he'll survive his disappointment. Even a cop can only do so much in cases like these."

"Mmm. You don't know Charlie very well. Where do you think I got my stubborn streak from?"

He laughed softly, the sound echoing in his chest until it took a bell-like tone that reminded me of some ancient Greek god. My heart thrilled to hear it: I hadn't heard him laugh in so long.

The glow of the kitchen light caught my attention as I peeked around Edward's shoulder. He turned suddenly, loosing one arm from around my waist, a chuckle reverberating in his throat.

"Eight fifty-five" he said, the laugh still lingering in his voice. "I suppose it is time for me to give you up to your jailor."

I frowned as I looked into the window. Sure enough, I could see the silhouette of my father through the worn curtains. Edward smiled at the grimace on my face and planted a chaste kiss upon my cheek as he led me towards the door. Charlie was one step ahead of him, holding it ajar already, letting the light spill out across the grass. Edward shifted his grasp to my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. My eyes found his: I knew he could read there my reluctance to let him leave. The soft smile that he returned me I took as a promise: I would not have to spend this night alone.

"Good night Bella," he whispered, his voice dwelling tenderly on my name.

"Good night Edward," I returned softly as his hand left mine. Somehow the limb seemed even more chilled without his reassuring grasp.

"Good-bye, Chief Swan," Edward said merrily, and louder this time. Charlie's frown deepened: he clearly thought that Edward was mocking him. I stood there in the dark for a moment, alone, watching my father with a guarded expression. I heard the soft purr of the Volvo as he turned the key in the ignition, saw the headlights light the living-room from the driveway as I stepped into the house and illuminated the living room.

And Charlie. He was not looking pleased.


	2. Stream of Consciousness

Disclaimer: I'm only playing in the world of Twilight. It's not my world. Unfortunately.

A/N: Yes, it is a point of view switch. Welcome to the story in Edward's head. You'll find that I do this a lot. And I'm not gonna tell you when I do anymore. You should be able to pick up on it easily.

Chapter Two

I supposed Charlie had a right to hate me.

Any normal, sane father would, even without a knowledge of what I really was. A revelation of _that_ sort would surely push Charlie over the edge. I couldn't help but wonder if he had ever had any suspicion about my family. Surely Billy Black had said something by now. And yet, nothing in his current thoughts spoke of any qualms about vampires.

The only thing on his mind at the moment was how much he hated teenage boys in general. I couldn't help but find some of his plotting against me more than a little amusing.

My steps carried me quickly to my car. I could see Bella through the thin material of the curtains, looking up at her father through those long, dark eyelashes that I loved so much. Again, there was that insistent frustration at not knowing her thoughts.

She never told me everything.

_She has a right not to, _I fumed at myself as I slid into my seat and jammed the key into the ignition. I heard the engine turn over and fire smoothly, sounds that didn't register to the human ear. I backed carefully out of the drive: the last thing that I needed now was to give _Charlie_ an excuse to write me a ticket.

My thoughts couldn't be occupied with the police chief of Forks for long though. They quickly raced on to contemplating his only daughter.

Holding her in my arms again was the closest I was ever going to get to heaven. Or was it? Her observations still left me staggered. Was it really in my heart to believe Carlisle?

I glanced in my rearview mirror. _Her _house, her _home_, there with Charlie. How could she be so eager to leave all of that behind?

My foot found the accelerator easily, slamming it to the floor boards as soon as I'd left her street. The Volvo shuddered slightly under the abuse. Rosalie was going to have my head if I kept treating my car like this.

Or perhaps we'd be even.

Rosalie had suddenly begun practicing an amazing amount of self-control around me. The number of uncharitable thoughts about Bella had dwindled, and it was with no little amount of satisfaction to myself that I "heard" her berating herself.

I smiled wryly as I thought about the changes in my family's behavior. Though I was the youngest when I was changed, I still held the position of "elder brother", it seemed. Only Alice was able to find the courage – or would impertinence be a better word?—to question my actions in anything but a rhetorical manner.

It had taken forever to get her to tell me what Bella had gone through after I'd forced the departure of our family. When she finally did, she spoke quickly, quietly. Her normally careful patterns of speech were lost in her eagerness to escape me.

"Charlie said she just lost it at first, it was like she wasn't there at all. He tried to send her to her mother, but she wouldn't have it. He said she screamed in her sleep all the time. And after that, he made it sound like…. like she died, Edward."

"And I killed her."


	3. Father and Daughter

Chapter Three- Father and Daughter

Even with Charlie standing there in front of me, it was hard to keep my mind on him. My mind _would_ keep drifting to Edward, wondering where he was. And, oddly enough, trying to picture in my mind exactly where that hidden turn-off to his house was located.

I heaved a sigh. Charlie's look softened a little. _The poor man, _I thought, _his little girl has gone and grown up on him, left him for another man. Fathers are supposed to be the first love of a daughter's life, aren't they? So where does Charlie fit into my heart?_

"I love you Dad," I said. My voice was soft, and sounded almost tired, and yet the simple expression startled me with its truth.

Charlie looked a little shocked. I'd never said that simple phrase before without reason. He crossed the space between us in two quick steps. For a moment I couldn't help but compare his heavy tread with the silent steps of Edward: why did the two men in my life have to be so very different? My father wrapped one warm arm around my shoulders and kissed the top of my head lightly, just like he used as he said good-bye to me after a long summer visit.

"I love you, Bells. Always have, always will."

I smiled up at him, resisting the temptation to ask _"So does this mean I'm not grounded anymore?"_ Instead, I glanced at the clock and said "You're going to miss the sports segment on the news. Don't you want to know the score of that game?"

In all honesty, I didn't know what game would be featured on the news broadcast tonight, but there must have been one because Charlie kissed the top of my head again as he let go of me and made a beeline for the television.

I smiled as I rummaged about in the cupboards of the kitchen, looking for something, anything to bake. I couldn't help but think, even with everything that had happened, I'd done the right thing when I came to Forks


	4. Melancholy Chords

A/N: Again. Twilight not mine.

I spun the steering wheel around, perhaps a little viciously. The rear of the car began to fishtail on the gravel, and I could feel a bitter smile creeping onto my face. The sounds the bits of rock made as they flew into the surrounding trees and knocked against the panels of my Volvo were oddly satisfying. I waited to correct the car's course until the last minute, just to see if I could still time my actions correctly.

_Humans are allowed to do this sort of stupid thing for the thrill, so why shouldn't a vampire get the same privilege?_

As soon as the thought crossed my mind, I felt guilty. Bella, my own dear _Bella, _has been thrill-seeking all summer during my absence.

I couldn't help but wince at the thought of what might have happened to her. Motorcycles, cliff-jumping, and werewolves! She courted death the way that no other mortal in all of my acquaintance had!

And all to hear the sound of my _voice._ I supposed I had to be comforted by the idea that Alice hadn't seen a future with a mentally unbalanced Bella in it.

I ran one hand through my hair, in the same manner that always made Bella ask what I was thinking. I probably told her as much of the truth as she told me.

Again, that pang of guilt as I drove up between the ancient cedars and watched the ghostly pale façade of my home appear from amid the green.

I remembered how it felt to have Aro take my hand and rifle through every memory in my brain. I had seen again my own eyes, stained crimson, in the mirror, watched myself stalk down dark alleyways, relived my own personal hell.

Is that what I did to people? Was I really any different? _I _was able to live my life privately, but no one else around me was. Except Bella. Didn't I owe her privacy?

I owed her my life, as well as my existence. She was the only thing that had prevented me from destroying myself, and she was what made this state of being _life._

I had never known exactly how dead I was until I had felt the soft warmth of her, heard the rich rhythm of her breath, and come to know the depths of her emotions.

I had been dead to the world in more ways than one. My heart didn't beat, that was true, but I was dead emotionally too. The only attachments I had been capable of forming were with my family.

Bella brought me into a whole new world.

I stopped the car as I reached the outbuilding it was normally stored in, slid out of the seat, and plodded towards the house with a heavy tread.

As I entered the house, I noticed that it seemed oddly empty. Shivering echoes ran up and down the walls as the structure creaked in a high wind. Everyone else must have gone out hunting.

I walked across to the dais my piano sat on, flipping the lights as I went. A house like this shouldn't be kept in the dark.

I ran a hand across the rich mahogany top of my instrument, then lifted the lid, settled it onto an upraised stand. Taking a seat at the piano bench, I stared out the window. A storm was brewing. My hands seemed to move of their own volition, caressing the ivory keys gently.

Silence hung in the air like a thick gauze curtain. With a stroke of a key, I parted it, let it give way to the beauties of music. Melancholy chords poured forth, mingled with the fabric of whatever soul I had left as the tearful rain splashed against the world outside.


	5. Dial Tone

It didn't take long to scrounge up all of the proper ingredients for chocolate chip cookies. It did, however, take more than just a few seconds to find Charlie's battered old hand mixer and a warped but still serviceable baking sheet.

_If it weren't a Friday night, Charlie would be on my case for planning on being up so late, _I mused. I liked baking; it wasn't like there was really that much more for me to do tonight, considering the current state of "house arrest without parole". Besides, Edward was going to be back over, this time without Charlie's knowledge, until much later. My father had a habit of staying up late on weekends.

I watched idly as the mixer creamed together the butter, sugar, eggs, vanilla, and brown sugar. It was amazing really, the way so many different flavors could combine together to make something as delicious as cookies.

If I pursued the option of immortality, would I miss doing things like this? Would I even remember my own recipes, or regret never being able to be a mother?

My heart was tied to Edward's, irrevocably. But I had ties here, in the human world, too, didn't I?

My gaze traveled to the back of Charlie's head as I added more ingredients to the bowl. More and more scalp had begun to show through the mahogany colored curls, and more highlights of grey had lighted there. How much of it was my fault? In just one year I had managed to disappear from under his nose twice, and I know how much it must have cost him to forgive me. I was only grateful that he didn't know the full extent of my behavior. If he _ever_ found out about the motorcycles… it just didn't bear thinking about.

The brief memory of the motorcycles brought a face into my mental eye: Jacob Black. I hadn't heard from him since I'd gone haring off to Italy.

I loaded the cookie sheet and slid it into the oven, then turned to look at the phone hanging on the wall. I had tried again and again to reach him, but to no avail.

Once more couldn't hurt.

I flipped the timer on the oven to ten minutes, then picked up the receiver. I waited a moment, listening to the dial tone before I began punching the numbers. Why in the world was Jacob being so stubborn about not talking to me?

My finger left the final key, and I heard the distant ringing I'd grown accustomed to.

One.

Two..

Three…

Four….

Billy picked up on five.

"Hi, Billy," I said, falsely cheery, "is Jacob there?"

"No, Bella, I'm afraid he's not. Is there a message I should give him?"

" _Yeah, tell him to pull his head out of the sand and stop sulking already!_" is what I wanted to say. But I didn't, because I was talking to Billy, not Jacob. I owed Billy at least that much respect.

"No, just that I called. Thanks," I said, hanging up without hearing his good-bye.

I picked up the receiver again, half-tempted to call back and demand to speak to Jacob.

The dial tone rang emptily in my ears.

I set the phone back in its cradle.

So that was the way that it was going to be between us.

I leaned against the counter for a few minutes, wondering why life had to be this way.

When the timer finally rang, I nearly jolted out of my skin. I pulled the cookies out and set them down with a sigh.

"Jacob Black, why are you so stupid?" I muttered.


	6. Contemplation

Disclaimer: Twilight does not belong to me. It belongs to Stephenie Meyer. I just like to babysit.

I let the music ebb and flow around me, the strains so tortuously beautiful.

So much like Bella. I remembered sitting here, playing for her, and then turning to see tears dripping down her face as she watched the play of my fingers across the keys. I had thought my heart would break for sheer love of her, if it were possible.

I know now it is possible. I tore myself away, and tore myself to pieces in the process. But worse than that was what I had done to her, because I loved her. I needed--desperately—to find a way to make it up to her.

I thought of the way she rejected my proposal, half-terrified, and nearly laughed. I understood _why_, of course, and had even expected her reaction, but that didn't mean that I had been aching for her to say "yes" anyways.

I still wanted, _needed_ her to say "yes".

Carlisle was right: I wasn't about to live without her.

There was just the "little" matter of her humanity.

I sighed, and let my fingers trail down the keyboard a few octaves, still playing.

The music matched the storm that was just beginning to brew outside.

I was glad no one was in the house. I needed solitude right now, a place to pour the notes that were written inside me. My mind was my own, for a change. No one else's thoughts barged in. Bella was the only one I wanted beside me at the moment, the only one I could stand to see me in this state of confusion.

It would be so simple to change her, to secure her to myself for eternity.

But how could I do that to my beloved? Would she grow to hate me for it, loathing me for what I stole from her?

Rosalie hated me. Hated that Carlisle had taken her humanity from her, _for my sake_, intending for her to be my companion.

I don't think she ever really believed that she would have died—well and truly died, as only humans do—if he hadn't.

I shifted the melody to a minor key, bowing my head over my hands. It seemed unnatural, even to me, how quickly my hands moved and how skillfully the digits coaxed forth the notes.

Again, I could see Bella in the music. Her passion, curiousity, beauty, innocence: all of it was right there in the beautiful strains. And yet, it wasn't. No inanimate object, no matter how beautiful, would ever compare. No sound was so glorious, no smell so enticing as she was.

She made it worth it. Eternal damnation was worth it, if it meant I was able to love her.

A smile curled over my lips.

_Perhaps Carlisle was right._


	7. Weary

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or New Moon. Couldn't afford to buy it even if Stephenie Meyer wished to sell.(Like that will ever happen)

A/N: Super short chapter. Sorry! Can't decide right now whether to add on or jump to Edward's point of view... I should so be writing a paper that's due tomorrow.

By the time I pulled the last tray of cookies out of the oven, it was nearly ten-thirty. My feet ached, and my stomach hurt terribly. I'd eaten far too many cookies, but I hadn't been able to help myself. I supposed I didn't have too much to be worried about though: Jacob had told me again and again (jokingly of course) that I had lost an obscene amount of weight. Of course, he'd never mentioned what circumstances it had been under. He never did. I couldn't help but wonder what I'd looked like at the time, but it was most likely gaunt and worn.

I nearly couldn't help laughing at the mental image that popped into my head: I looked like some kind of desperate criminal.

I peeked out of the kitchen to check on Charlie. His chin was currently resting on his chest while the colors on the TV swam together and reformed into the gaudy images of commercials. He wasn't so different from my mother: I still had to tell the both of them when to go to bed.

How much had it really hurt him, when she'd left? I didn't think he'd ever even dated anyone since. I found myself selfishly wishing that he wouldn't, not while I was here, because that would be just _too_ awkward. Perhaps Charlie would find someone, someday. He deserved to be happy.

I glanced at the clock. Even thinking of happiness led my mind to Edward. It would be awhile before he arrived: enough time for me to convince Charlie to go to bed and have a "human minute".


	8. Mother's Love

Disclaimer: I have no real ties to Twilight and New Moon . Everything belongs to Stephenie Meyer.

A/N: There might be a little "aside" to accompany this, from Esme's POV.

I heard the soft grinding of the hinges of the front door as it swung open and the nearly silent quick steps that followed. I knew that tread, the slight weight behind it, the face that went with it: it could only be Esme, the second of my two mothers.

I lifted my head to let my eyes find her. She was already seated next to me, her soft hair tousled by the wind of her own passage. She raised one hand to my brow, sweeping back the hair that had fallen forward, nearly into my eyes. Her touch was cool, hard, and as smooth as glass, even on my skin.

I let my fingers dwell over the notes of one last chord, then let the sound fade into the void.

Esme's eyes were still on me, beaming with pride. They had lightened in color: I had been right in assuming that they had been hunting.

"The others?" I never even had to finish my sentences around here. She usually knew what I was thinking before it left my mouth. Mother's intuition, I suppose.

_Playing ball_, she thought, _soccer this time. They miss you, Edward._

"You mean they miss someone willing to take on Emmett," I said with a laugh. When it came to soccer, Alice was a genius with footwork, but Emmett was still formidable. He carried his weight well, and knew how to throw it around. It hurt my pride to admit that he was probably more than a match for me in a contest of sheer strength, but it had never stopped me from trying.

Her laugh rang in the air, but she still regarded me with those soft eyes. I could hear and feel her love for me in my mind; an unconditional love, no matter what it was that I did. The goodness of her heart almost made me ashamed of my own.

"Perhaps after I get back," I said, a little grudgingly. The current storm system was likely to stay around Forks for a few days, according to Alice. A little recreation wouldn't go amiss right now: it was a perfect opportunity to let loose some aggression.

Esme never even had to ask where I was going: they all knew. I couldn't leave Bella alone, not after the separation we had endured, and with _Victoria_, loathsome creature, on the loose.

"Play for me before you leave," she said, speaking the request. She always did that, knowing I could never deny her.

I turned back to the keyboard, pressing the keys gently in the first few notes of the composition dedicated solely to her: _Mother's Love._


	9. Tremble

Disclaimer: Twilight and New Moon are the property and creation of Stephenie Meyer. I am no such genius and have no claim on them.

It was an entire hour before I'd soaked the guilt out of my brain. When I had finally emerged from the shower, my face was beet-red from the heat of the water. It was worth it though. A thick, humid steam had filled the bathroom and only dissipated after I propped open the door. I took my time working a brush through my hair. For a reason I didn't want to admit, I was stalling. I didn't want to go back into my room, in the dark, alone.

Victoria was still out there somewhere.

Just the thought made my heart race. Victoria, with her feral grace and lethally vindictive smile.

I took a deep, calming breath, thinking of Edward's eyes: calm pools of assurance and love. My heart was still racing, but at least it was for a different reason this time.

I placed the brush back in my bag and looked in the mirror. I remembered back to when I used to believe the old superstition that a vampire's reflection didn't exist and crinkled my nose in amusement. Really, where did a belief _that_ silly come from?

Something moved in my room.

My heart jumped to my throat, stifling my windpipe. I couldn't breathe! Images of flame-red hair and malicious red-violet eyes flashed into my mind. My hands shook violently as I steadied myself against the bathroom counter, sparing only one glance into the dim hallway before looking into the mirror again. My already pale skin was drained of all blood, my eyes dilated until the pupils were frightened black discs.

I forced myself away from the sink and took a tentative step into the hallway, hoping against hope it was only Edward behind the flimsy door. But he was never clumsy, never made _any_ unintentional noise.

And if it was Victoria….

Hopefully she would sate her thirst with me, leave Charlie with as much peace as could be salvaged.

My nerves couldn't handle any more. My hand touched the brass doorknob, chill against my flesh. All the heat that I had obtained from nearly boiling myself in the shower faded, leaving my blood running thin in my veins.

My fingers wrapped slowly around it, white-knuckled and tremulous. With some difficulty, I forced my wrist to twist the knob and my foot forward just one small step.

At that precise moment, lightning flashed outside my window, throwing my room into sharp relief and highlighting the face of the vampire standing there in front of me.

At that precise moment, I felt consciousness slipping away and saw the floor flying up to meet my face.


	10. Oblivion

Disclaimer: I'm out of ideas to make this even moderately amusing. New Moon and Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer, not me.

She had stood there before me, heart beating wildly, stuttering at every beat. I could smell the thick stench of fear envelop her naturally sweet scent, see the blood pulse under the thin, pale veneer of her flesh.

Her presence washed over me with all the force of a tsunami. I was captured by her, held deep down in the currents of everything she was.

A bright swatch of lightning lit up the room, and I noticed how terribly her limbs trembled and how very wide her eyes were. I heard the joints of her knees unlock and the shallow breath she drew in as she lost consciousness and fell.

I rushed to her side, catching her prone body before gravity took her all the way down to the wooden floor. I pulled her close to my chest, the warmth of her flooding into me. Her hair draped over one or my arms like a silk curtain, softer than I had remembered. One unconscious hand had landed against my chest; the fingers of it were now curled tightly into the fabric.

I kissed her forehead lightly and then wiped away the soft sheen of sweat that had appeared against her creamy brow.

I picked myself up from the floor, bearing her burden lightly. It was silly of me, but I couldn't settle her into her bed just yet. Instead, I pulled a quilt off of her bed, wrapped her into it tightly, and then settled myself into the rocking chair in the corner of her room.

My Bella.

Il mio cantante.

My singer.


	11. Relief

Disclaimer: I can dream all I want, but Twilight and New Moon don't belong to me. They belong to Stephenie Meyer.

A/N: So, you probably totally knew it was only Edward in Bella's room. But, I had to do it. It was just kinda...funny, in a warped little way for me. Maybe it's just because I do that whole paranoia thing to myself all the time and thought it was funny that it was happening to someone else this time. Anyways, on with the story already!

* * *

I awoke to the feeling of cold, firm lips on my neck and a distant pounding ache in my head. I suddenly remembered everything that Laurent had said on that day long ago, his eyes burning with thirst. My eyes flew open: my heart began racing before I even registered the color of the hair in front of me.

"Edward," I whispered, relief flooding through me. He lifted his face to mine, gazing at me through half-lidded eyes. Those long, luxuriously thick lashes obscured his expression, but I thought he looked beautifully serene, and slightly amused.

"What in the world is wrong with you?" he said softly, his deep voice throbbing teasingly. A feeling of ease washed through me: he made me melt like butter. "It's not like I've not been in your room waiting for you every night," he continued, kissing my face softly. It was suddenly _very_ hard for me to remember anything before this moment.

"It's just that… I was thinking about Victoria, and I heard… it was just a noise in my room, and you _never _make _any_ noise, and it… well, it scared me," I muttered, a little accusingly. It _was_ his fault.

He chuckled, a sound that nearly made me forgive him in that instant. It was so _hard_ to be mad at him, when he was so perfectly…. There wasn't even a word for it. My love for him engulfed my whole life, all of my being. There wasn't a piece of me not connected to him in some way.

"I wasn't aware that you had released your radio from its confinement in your closet," he said, eyebrows raised just a little, "and I was not expecting it to be underneath your window. I'm relatively sure no damage was done, though. You seem to be rubbing off on me, because I nearly tripped over it."

I couldn't help but giggle at the very idea. _Edward,_ graceful, perfect Edward, nearly tripping. I was sure it was quite a blow to his pride: he was so used to being infallible.

His look was severe. I couldn't help it: I laughed softly, breathlessly.

I kissed him lightly, on the corner of the mouth. He turned his head to mine and pressed his lips flush against mine.

I closed my eyes as the fire of his love chased through me: If he wasn't careful, I was going to faint again.


	12. Manipulative

Disclaimer: All the characters are Stephenie Meyer's. I'm only playing off of her ideas.

A/N: A little bit inspired by Bella's little revelation near the end of Edward's proposal: He can be manipulative. And sooo all-around... there aren't even words for him.

* * *

I pulled my face away from Bella's as the first real drops of rain began falling against her window. Her eyes remained closed for a fraction of a second longer and then slowly opened. Her beautiful brown eyes were placid, content. For the moment, she was content to lay there in my arms, her head against my chest. She wouldn't be able to help noticing that my breath came faster than usual, a little ragged, as was hers.

Lightning flashed outside of her window again, but she didn't even jump, only frowned a little as she looked out the window.

"What are you thinking?" I whispered, touching my mouth gently to her ear. She shivered lightly: I smiled. There was something absolutely exhilarating about being able to affect her the way she affected _me. _

"You ask that question _a lot_."

"Can you blame me? I only want to know every single thing that passes through your beautiful mind. Bella, being with you is like nothing else in the entire world. You are like no one else in the world, past, present, or future. I love you," I said, interspersing the words with soft kisses.

"Curiosity killed the cat," she muttered. Her gaze was little unfocused: it either meant that she was growing tired or that my presence was affecting her. If it was the latter, I was sure to get my way, with a little persuasion. I trailed one hand down her face, tracing the curve of her cheekbones down to her soft, full lips.

"Good thing I'm a vampire, then," I whispered, leaning near.

"You're doing it again. I'm beginning to think you can be… very _manipulative_, when you want to be," she said, even as she breathed in my scent with closed eyes and a smile on the lips under my fingers.

I laughed and pulled her close to me. Dangerously close, but I was well fed tonight, and her presence wasn't as… trying as it had been before Volterra.

"I'll find out sooner or later."


	13. Tenderly

Disclaimer: You know this by now, but I can't afford to be sued or anything like that. So, again, I humbly submit that I am immensely grateful for being allowed to use Stephenie Meyer's superb characters.

A/N: I couldn't resist. _More_ fluff. Very sweet fluff, the sort that even I like.And so sappy. But still sticking to my standard of "no bad stuff," so no fear! I'll let you get to reading now!

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I stretched in his arms, trying to make my mind concentrate on anything but _him. _It was a desperate effort, when I could see his brilliant eyes shining with mirth, every perfect muscle, that wonderfully crooked smile… and behind all that, the mind, the _soul_ that I was in love with. He was right, though, he would find out sooner or later, most likely when I was asleep and betrayed all my secrets to any who could hear.

I didn't really mind. Not telling him was just… a little manipulative of _me._ For once, I wanted to give as good as I got, and a little mind game wouldn't harm him.

His arms loosened their grasp, and I sat up, groaning a little. He looked at me curiously. "I'm a little sore is all," I said, in response to the unasked question, "It's probably just from being so tense." He watched me carefully, despite the assurance, as I looked my limbs over. I expected a few bruises at the least from making contact with his stone-hard arms, but found none. That made me smile. His gaze took on a slightly confused and wary aspect.

"You're thinking that something's wrong with my head, aren't you?"

"Something along those lines."

"Pessimist."

"Klutz."

"You know that's playing dirty," I said, frowning as I leaned in towards his face, barely moving so as not to startle him.

"It's the truth, and you know it." His face was so close to mine that I could feel the chill of his flesh, and I was sure that he felt the warmth of mine.

"It's still not fair," I whispered, breathless.

He kissed the hollow between my collarbones lightly, and I felt my own skin flush red under the touch of his lips as he trailed kisses up my neck to the hollow under my ear. "_Hasn't anyone ever told you? Life isn't fair." _His voice throbbed with a laugh deep down in his lungs.

"_I believe I _have_ heard that somewhere before_," I said, trembling uncontrollably at the feel of his breath against my bare neck. I pulled back away from him slowly, watching his face as I slid one hand up from its resting place on his chest, over his alabaster throat, and up under his chin. I held it there for a moment as one of his hands slid up my back, caressing my spine and coming to rest against the back of my neck while I lost myself in the loving expression of his eyes. I pulled his face closer to mine carefully, while giving into the slight pressure on the back of my neck that drew me even nearer to him.

I cannot say whether my lips met his first or his met mine, but in the instant that they were joined, a mind-numbing wave of pleasure swept through me, obliterating the shadows that stalked the edges of my mind with purest light. I felt all of my doubts falter under this testimony of his unfaltering love and my heart swell and throb until I was sure it should break through the cage of my ribs.

My fingers trembled against the skin at the corner of his jaw as he drew his mouth back from mine. My breath swept into my lungs with a sudden gasp as let my head fall back into his hand. To my surprise, a slight tremor passed through his body: surely I didn't affect him they way that he affected me? His breathing held just a slightly ragged edge, and his face was soft, loving. Once upon a time, he had looked out of those very same eyes wildly desperate, fighting with only love and faith against instinct. No trace of a predator lingered there now.

I laid my head against his chest, every pore of my skin tingling. I felt Edward's arms slowly caress me as they wrapped around me again, holding me tightly to his body with his immense strength as I melted under his touch.


	14. Ever Known

Disclaimer: I think you've gotten the idea by now. Twilight, etc, is not mine.

A/N: Not much fluff this time. Some Edwardian angst though. Review and tell me if you think I"ve gotten him correctly. He doesn't translate very well to text, does he? Stupid vampire boys...

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The deep dark of the night. Safety. The cloaking shadow of anonymity.

It burned like acid in my brain.

Night was safety. Night was the death of light.

And the brighter the light, the deeper the shadow that overwhelmed it at its demise. Bella was that light, the one the Greeks would have called Ether: light brighter than light itself. And I, I was Erebus, blacker than blackest night. The color of the very depths of Hell itself.

My thoughts swirled about again as I felt Bella relax in my arms, drifting off into the sweet release of sleep. I couldn't help but look at her angelic face and wonder if I had sinned against her when I left, committed a dark, deep offense that cut her to the quick.

I had been a fool to think that Bella would forget me. Naïve, to think that she did not love as deeply as I. Naïve, even after a hundred years of hearing the thoughts of humanity.

I knew nothing about women. That was the old cliché that Esme had dinned in my ears, time and time again after she had caught wind of what I had planned for our departure. She was right. I could hear the thoughts of so many, scrutinize their actions, and I still knew nothing. Not even enough to protect the heart, the life of my beloved.

And yet, even as I left, I knew that I was wrong. But, having gone that far already, I told myself that this, this death-of-heart, was best and my second thoughts were only the vain wishes of a dead heart. So I buried again the human that she had resurrected in my soul.

The next months were torture. And seeing Bella again, in that square with the clock beating its chime into my brain, that was something more than a dream. It was rising from the grave and shaking off the moldering shroud I had cloaked myself in.

And then, so recently, when I saw her wake for the first time in what felt like ages and felt her hesitation, it had crept into my heart that there was someone else. The pain of it was still vivid in my mind: the shock that had wound its way down my body, the cold, curling finger of jealousy that rested on my heart. The thought of Newton's arms around her…And having to keep it all from her. Then, her denial that brought the relief that flooded through my soul and pooled in my head, nearly making me giddy. But still, that hesitation that had been there, and to some degree, was still there. It was like watching her flinch as I applied pressure to a festering wound.

Another brilliant flash of lightning lit the sky outside, throwing Bella's features into sharp relief. I couldn't believe that she didn't think she was beautiful, but she insisted on maintaining that she was nothing special. Oh, how wrong she was. She was _everything_ special.

Her eyes flickered open at the sound of rolling thunder, and her blurry gaze met mine for an instant. She moaned softly as she tucked her face into my chest, and I allowed myself one deep chuckle at her expense. Stormy nights were always hard for Bella. If she were to get any sleep at all tonight, she needed to be in her own bed.

I stood up slowly, trying to keep the rocking chair from making any noise on the ancient hardwood floors of Bella's room. She moaned again, apparently intending to protest.

"Not ready to go to sleep yet," she mumbled through a half-hearted yawn. I hesitated for half of a heart-beat: she had no idea how often I nearly gave in to her will in matters like this. It was stupid, juvenile even, but sometimes I couldn't resist her simple requests. An odd sensation, for an individual as willful as I.

I crossed the short space to the bed anyways, set her down, and secured the covers around her. Her eyes were closed again, and a small smile crossed her lips as I put one arm around her, leaving my other hand free to caress the soft features of her face as her mind drifted and succumbed to unconsciousness. Bella needed to be rested for tomorrow: all of the college applications that I had brought over were nearly due, and I wasn't about to let her pass those opportunities by.

And if she was occupied with that, it might afford me a chance to talk to Charlie alone. There were a few things to be settled between us still, and a few more issues to introduce.

But tomorrow would be another day. For now, I had Bella in my arms.

I kissed her forehead gently, savoring the sweet perfume of her skin and the warmth that radiated from it, and began singing softly the lullaby that I had written for her, the only angel that I had ever known.


	15. Dream State

Disclaimer: I am not Stephenie Meyer, have no rights to Twilight, Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.

A/N: Ok, just did a quick fix on this. Hope you like it. And, since I've forgotten to say this so many times before, to my reviewers--- THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!

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I felt like I was standing on the edge of a revelation. A familiar dull ache filled my stomach and a thick stupor chased through my mind, just as I was about to grasp the truth—whatever the truth was. Everything was shot through with vivid violet streaks of light, and I couldn't be sure if I was waking or dreaming. As hard as I willed myself to, I couldn't pull myself away from the grasp of sleep. It was like a poison running slowly through my veins, leaving me victim to my subconscious. And then the real dreams began.

They started as wraiths of the things that I had done that day. My hands folded laundry, washed the dishes, held the iron that pressed my clothes. Again and again, a never ending domestic cycle. And then I caught sight of my reflection in the flat glass of a picture frame. The face there was not my own: it was my mother's, but much older, lined and… twisted somehow.

And suddenly I knew why she had left Charlie, what her fears had been.

With that realization, my mind jerked away again, this time to a warped half-forgotten memory. Shadows seemed to creep out from the desert, rising from the hollows carved in the rock by the lonesome wind. The once friendly sun had turned traitor and sank down behind the horizon. The sky seemed to be on fire, as if Hell itself had come to dwell on the crust of the Earth. Sound echoed oddly off of the canyon walls surrounding me: I could hear the blood of the dead crying from the dust, and the voices were oddly familiar. Something in the tenor of them reminded of Jacob. And then I knew, saw the adobe dwellings carved into the red rock. Quileutes had never dwelt there in the waking world, but now, in this dream state, I somehow knew what waited behind those walls and in the recesses of this canyon. Dark eyes that pierced the darkness, lithe bodies that stalked vampires effortlessly. Something dashed across the corner of my vision, and I spun on one heel. Panic began to grow at the base of my throat, threatening to crush my windpipe with its relentless grip.

A bone-chilling growl echoed up the walls, dwelling in the hollows and assaulting my ears. And then Jacob stood before me, looking as he had before the transformation to werewolf had ever occurred. His hair lay unbound across his shoulders, and he looked at me out of those dark eyes, but there was a feral glint there. Adrenaline coursed through my body, and I saw him lift his head, sniff the air. I thought of Laurent and the meadow that day, saw my protector become predator. I knew that Jacob could smell the fear.

This wasn't the Jacob that I knew.

I took a step back, heart stuttering wildly, and heard the growling again.

He looked…wounded. Like an animal caught in a trap. There was a movie I had seen once, where a fox was snared between the sharp metal teeth of a contraption. I remembered the way it shivered in fear and pain, wildly snapping at anything that came near it. Remembering that, I took another step back.

He advanced, and the voices from the dust grew louder. Goosebumps broke out along my skin and I began shaking. He stopped, a puzzled line between his brows.

For the first time, I looked past him. There was Emily, wolf-girl, her wounds still fresh and bleeding. The scarlet fluid tainted her dress, ran down her limbs in brilliant rivers. The flesh was tattered, brutally savaged. Her eyes turned to mine, brilliant with pain. I saw myself, terrified, reflected in them.

I woke with a soft cry as a bolt of lightning pierced the sky and thunder rumbled, closer now than ever. My hands were twisted in the fabric of Edward's shirt and shaking feverishly. Tears began falling from my eyes, fast and thick as the rain outside. I couldn't even hear Edward's voice as he murmured consoling words, but I saw the worry and concern in his eyes and the movement of his lips. My breath rushed into my lungs with sudden gasps: it felt so much like drowning beneath the breakers of the ocean again. That brought Jacob back into my mind, a blazing, burning personage.

Edward seized me tightly, the cool strength of him quenching the fire. His lips were brushing my face, banishing the tears that slid across my cheeks even as new ones sprang from my eyes. I could feel the sweat springing from my pores and clinging to my skin. The fabric of Edward's shirt felt damp in my grasp, but I couldn't pry my fingers apart enough to release it.

His voice was suddenly in my ear, fierce with worry. I couldn't make out the words yet, but the rich texture of it flowed through me, quelled the trembling muscles, softened the sharp edge of panic. My heart still beat a relentless tattoo against my ribs, but the thick bulk of Edward's body kept it from flying through my chest.

"Bella," he said softly, "I'm here. It's alright. Shh, Bella, shh. You're not dreaming anymore. Please, listen to me. Tell me what's wrong."

My hands still trembled, and my teeth threatened to chatter. I lifted my eyes to his, and something he saw there caused his face to twist in pain.

"Bella, I can't stand to see you hurting like this. Tell me, tell me _please_ what it is that is upsetting you." His voice was rich, pleading. The voice of a destroying angel, there to banish all my demons.

He pressed his lips gently to mine, and my lips trembled against his. That simple touch restored some of my sanity to me and I managed to release the fabric clutched in my hands. My breathing slowed marginally, but I still couldn't manage words. Edward was looking more and more distressed as time passed.

"I think I need to sit up," I murmured. It was all I could manage. Slowly, Edward pulled himself away and helped me rise into a halfway upright position. Regardless of the danger, I wrapped my arms around his neck and let my body slump against his. My forehead settled against the cool flesh under his neck and it relieved some of the pounding in my skull. Tears dripped slowly from my eyes. His arms were around me again, securing me to him, my bastion, my fortification against the emotions that swept through me.


	16. Absolution

Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with Stephenie Meyer. I'm not sure I can even spell "affiliated" correctly. Anyways, the marvelous, splendiferous world of Twilight is hers.

A/N: Ok, I fixed the ending to my satisfaction. It's a little more cohesive this time around, and a little more like Edward. Even if it is Edward losing it. The changes are only in the end, because that's the part that I wrote in a bit of a hurry. And just a FYI announcement: ff's e-mail alert system doesn't seem to be working, at least for me. So I'm not ignoring you. In fact, I love to hear from readers. Para

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Chapter Sixteen -- Absolution

I had felt her growing restless under the weight of my arm and saw the contortions of her face as thunder punctuated the lightning flashes. The light was somewhat dimmed by the thin curtains that hung over the window, but it was still enough to disturb her slumber. Her hands had gathered my shirt into her grasp, and her breathing was becoming more and more irregular. I was about to wake her when lightning struck again. The violence of it woke her, and a soft, desperate cry escaped her full lips and struck me to the core. It was the cry of the wounded innocent, straight from an untainted heart. Her fingers clutched at my shirt as she began shaking violently. Tremors wracked her body, and for a moment I was stunned at the scent of terror that rolled forth from her. Her name slipped from my lips breathlessly, but she never heard. Tears were now rolling from her eyes, and horror was growing in my gut. I kept talking, stringing words together that were meant to comfort, but they fell on deaf ears. Her breathing was shallow, and her heart beat dully in her breast. I pulled her to me, desperately afraid of losing her to whatever phantom her mind had conjured.

I trailed my lips over her face, wiping away the tears that lingered there, even as a new wave rushed forth from those brilliant brown eyes. "Bella, please_, please_, stay with me Bella. I can't lose you to this. Not you," I murmured as fear rose in my throat. A thin sheen of sweat sprang across her face and her body felt clammy, nothing like the warmth that usually radiated from her. It was almost as if she wasn't there. And I suddenly knew what Alice had meant, when she had described Bella during my absence, and a small tremor ran through my own frame

I moved my mouth to her ear, attempting in vain to draw her away from her fear. "Bella, come back to me. Anything, _anything,_ you want, just please, tell me what's going on," I said, anxiety coloring my voice and knowing she wouldn't even hear it. Perhaps on some level she did, because her limbs relaxed marginally and the quivering of her skin began to slow. The knot that occupied the space in my chest where my lungs should have began to loosen just a little. "Bella, I'm here. It's alright. Shh, Bella, shh. You're not dreaming anymore. Please, _listen_ to me. Tell me what's wrong," I murmured as I pulled my face back from hers slightly, watching the expressions that raced over her features. Her eyes met mine for a fraction of an instant, and the horrified expression in them caused something in my chest to twist painfully. I could only hope that I wasn't the cause of this awful dread that held her in its clutches.

"Bella, I can't stand to see you hurting like this. Tell me; tell me _please_ what it is that is upsetting you," I begged. I had to know, had to make it right. I owed her that.

Something in her face relaxed, but she still couldn't find the words. Hesitantly, I pressed my lips to hers, desperately needing to tell her somehow that I loved her, that everything would be fine. Her mouth trembled against mine, but I could see lucidity returning to her eyes. Her pupils were still dilated, but her hands had released the fabric they had been grasping.

It couldn't be that she had thought I would leave her again, could it? The thought pierced me through the area where my heart should have been, a searing, blinding pain. Her eyes stayed on my face this time, and I saw a bit more of my Bella in her face. "I think I need to sit up," she said faintly, the tears still coursing from her eyes. I rose immediately, supporting her as she forced her body upwards into a sitting position. Her arms slid up around my neck and the warmth of her flesh flooded through me. She slumped in defeat against my chest, letting her head hang against the cool skin of my chest. I could only hope it granted her some relief: after the weeping she had done, she was bound to have a raging headache, and perhaps nausea as well.

As gently as I could, I wrapped my arms around here. A gusty sigh ripped from her lungs: to me it seemed to hold all the despair in the world. The need to know what was wrong was consuming the marrow of my bones. Tension was building in my mind, but I knew that Bella needed me to just be there, a supportive presence.

How many times in her life had she needed this, and never received it? Beautiful, brilliant angel that she was, she spent all of her time watching out for others, even her own parents. No one ever saw her stumble, fall, and then pick herself back up again, ignoring her own injuries. _Oh, Bella_, I thought, _will you not let me be the one to catch you _before_ you fall? _I smoothed her soft hair with one hand, gently combing through the tangles. _Darling Bella, the only one to have ever held such a place in my heart, let me be your strength._ She said so often that she did not want to forever be Lois Lane, that she wanted her turn as Superman. She couldn't see that she was already the hero in the lives of so many, the quiet force behind the rhythm of their worlds. She had exercised her power as a savior over me as well. Because of her, I could not succumb to the mad thirst of the monster that dwelt inside me. Because of her, I had not perished under the bright sun in a square at Volterra.

"Bella…" I began hesitantly. She sobbed, a great heaving gasp that tied a knot in my vocal cords. I pulled her closer; wishing that I somehow knew what it was that had frightened her. But that was an impossibility, one that I had been forced to be grateful for because of the protection it afforded her from the minions of Marcus, Caius, and Aros.

"Bella, look at me," I said, and this time I heard the desperation in my own voice as it nearly broke. Obediently, her head rose from my chest, and I felt the spectral warmth of her fade from my body. Her eyes were squeezed shut, most likely reliving the nightmare in her head. I brushed my lips across her eyelids, trying to grant her what relief I could. I settled my forehead against hers as I studied the deep red that flushed her face and watched the muscles along her jaw line relax as shook away the phantom dream. We sat in silence, and it was a long moment before I felt her eyelashes flutter open and saw again her beautiful eyes.

"You can't…even begin to know, how good it feels, your skin on mine," she murmured. Her voice sounded raw and throbbed with emotion.

"And you can't even begin to know… exactly how terrified I am at this moment," I answered. And I wasn't lying.

I could see the confusion in her eyes. I sighed: the memories that went with the explanation I was going to have to deliver were painful to us both, and an eternal wellspring of guilt for me. "Right now, I'm just praying that I'm not the cause of all this and that it has nothing to do…with anything before our whirlwind tour of the Tuscan countryside." I let a wry smile cross my face, but it wasn't genuine and slid off like butter over a hot griddle.

Her shocked expression informed me otherwise. "No, not you, never you. Not since…not since Italy." Her eyes avoided mine, and it was obvious that she didn't want me questioning what her nightmares had been about in that particular space of time. I settled for a different question: "Then who?"

Her gaze was still fixed somewhere down around my chin as she bit her bottom lip: a sure sign of reluctance. Her eyes flickered to mine, and she must have seen something there because she suddenly let a pair of names slide over her tongue.

"Jacob Black. And Sam Uley's fiancée, Emily."

I growled, deep in the recesses of my throat. Her head snapped back viciously and the muscles at the corners of her eyes were strained. I felt those soft hands fall from their perch on the back of my neck like wounded doves, shot by a merciless hunter. I dropped my own arms immediately, backing away, afraid of throwing her back into the grasp of whatever dream it was that had caught her mind. Her expression was guarded, and I was reminded again of the impregnable wall between her thoughts and me. Sometimes I could conjecture, but it was never enough, especially not now when I was utterly helpless. And so _stupid. _Everything I did was undeniably wrong. "Bella… I'm so sorry. I never meant to scare you," I said, scrubbing one hand through my hair. Good God, I was such a fool. It didn't matter what I had meant to do, it was what I had _done._ Just when I thought I was under control, I went and did something to upset her. If she became… hysterical again, it was only my fault. I pinched the bridge of my nose with one hand, staring down at the quilt on the bed, cursing myself for seven types of a fool as the hush grated on my ears. My extensive background in foreign languages wasn't enough fodder for the colorful epithets I was giving myself. There wasn't a single word, or even combination of words, harsh enough to describe my insensitivity. And still, that silence that hung in the air like chloroform.

Why wasn't she saying anything? I wanted to beg, plead for her to forgive me, stupid beast that I was. The silence was tearing through my sanity, destroying whatever peace I possessed. My mind was beyond pleading, and something inside screamed: _Speak, Bella, say something! _A few more moments of this, and I would probably lose whatever claim I had on sanity.

I felt one warm hand on my shoulder, a glowing sun to the man dying in the depths of night. Her familiar pulse throbbed against the cold stone of my flesh. My gaze whipped up to meet her own: the compassion and love I saw there made me tremble. Forgiveness was written across her face, plain even for me to see, the blindest of the blind.

Bella, sweet Isabella. The procurer of my absolution.


	17. Reconciliation

Disclaimer: See last chapter. And the chapter before. And the chapter before that. And... I think you get the idea.

A/N: I know some of you are **_really_** looking forward to Bella's explanation of the dream to Edward, and I promise it will be forthcoming, in the next chapter in fact. Just not this one. This got a little... fluffy. And anyways, you already read what Bella saw, and this way the next chapter will be from Edward and you get to see what's going through his mind. Ok, anyways, I'm rambling again. Go forth, read and review!

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Chapter Seventeen --Reconciliation

I had recoiled away from Edward in the instant that I felt his chest rumble, heard the smooth angry growl roll in his throat. He was sitting half-way across the bed, back to me before I even knew it. Just like that, when I needed him most, he could be so far away from me, give me up so easily. Then remorse for my thoughts surged through me relentlessly as I realized _why_ he had backed away so quickly. His words echoed through my head again: "_And you can't even begin to know… exactly how terrified I am at this moment… Right now, I'm just praying that I'm not the cause of all this."_ He couldn't have known that I would have reacted that way to something so little as growling, but he blamed himself anyways. Still, I didn't move, as I didn't know what his current state was, but I could recognize the black mood that had descended. I _hated_ seeing him like this.

His eyes flickered to mine. A new wash of pain colored his features, and I wished again that my face wasn't so easy for him to read, and so easily misunderstood. Why couldn't he see that the pain wasn't caused by him, it was _for_ him, for what he did to himself? His voice interrupted my thoughts, the voice of a fallen angel, ragged with remorse.

"Bella… I'm so sorry. I never meant to scare you," he whispered. One hand moved to his hair, turning the bronze locks into glorious disarray. He pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers, probably with more than enough force to turn human bones to dust. The beauty of him, this broken Atlas that still held up my world, that loved_ me,_ was enough to heal whatever the nightmare had broken. It wasn't his perfect form that had caught my heart; it was everything behind that statuesque exterior. And sometimes, he seemed so vulnerable, this deity of the ancient world. He allowed _me_ to be his weakness. And, sometimes, he allowed me to grant him strength.

I moved across the bed slowly, settling myself next to his side on the end of the bed and shuffling my bare feet nervously on the floor. He was so absorbed in guilt that he didn't even notice my presence until I placed one warm palm against his cold shoulder. For the first time in what felt like forever, I had ceased trembling. His head rose with inhuman grace, eyes full of piercing sadness. My heart wept for him, even as my blood sang for him.

A single tremor swept through the muscle under my fingers. In that short instant, something in his face changed. I smiled, a bit sadly I suppose, and we sat in silence for a moment longer. Words no longer seemed necessary to me. Edward draped one arm around my waist, seeming to feel the need to be closer to me. To say that I didn't need him, desperately, would be blasphemy. I laid my head on his shoulder, feeling intensely weary. Terror had sapped the marrow from my bones and melted the little muscle that I did have. Edward laid a single kiss softly on the top of my head, and I tilted my head back to see his face. He allowed himself to smile: a small twitch of his lips into that crooked smile that I loved best. I could feel a similar expression on my own mouth, and it felt wonderfully good after everything else that had happened on this stormy night. His smile grew in response, and he kissed the end of my nose with an expression similar to humor in his eyes. I laughed, one low throaty chuckle rising from my lungs. His lips grazed mine lightly, hungrily, and still hesitantly. A wicked smile crossed my face, and I pushed my mouth against his. I could feel my heart thudding erratically in my chest, and I was dimly aware that I wasn't breathing anymore as he responded, and for a long moment I was convinced there was nothing worth living for if moments—and brilliant, mind-numbing kisses—like this didn't exist.

As always, Edward broke away first, reluctance showing in every feature. He let himself fall onto my bed, feet still hanging off the edge and left arm draped over his face. The movement of his chest was barely perceptible, but seemed much faster than usual, moving up and down almost as quickly as my own. "I've said it before, Bella, and I'll say it again now: _You'll be the death of me, I swear you will_," he said, but a smile graced his lips. The words barely made sense through my spinning head, but they made me smile anyways. I let myself fall next to him, settling myself into the crook of his right arm. Feeling particularly daring, I lifted his arm to see those beautiful brown eyes that he was hiding. He obligingly allowed me to do so, even turning his head to look me full in the face. "If I may remind you, you are already dead, and you will _not_ be permitted to do any further dying, as you are my _life,_ my dearest love," I said, lifting my eyebrows archly. He laughed softly and wrapped his arms securely around me. "I wouldn't have it any other way, my darling Bella," he answered.


	18. The Fabric of Dreams

Disclaimer: I'm not Stephenie Meyer...Twilight, etc, belong to her. And I don't wanna get sued! The poetry is Victor Hugo's, called "As I have set my lip"

A/N: This chapter gets fluffier than Marshmallow Peeps that have been stuck in the microwave for a few minutes. And if you don't know how fluffy that looks, you should definitely go do it. Otherwise, you're missing out. And the end of this chapter was written towards midnight and later, so it's not really good right now. I'm not that happy with it. Guess I'll be getting the 'editing cleaver' out soon and rip it up and sew it back together again... Maybe tomorrow. We'll see. Anyways, constructive crit is always appreciated, and specifically asked, begged, and pleaded for in this chapter. Maybe I should just get a beta reader.

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For a time, I was content, even complacent, enough to lay there on the bed, staring into the face of my beloved. My gaze swept her face hungrily, again and again, trying to make up for every moment I had gone without seeing her. Her smile produced the smallest shadow of a dimple at the corner of her mouth; one that appeared only when she was completely and totally happy. Something about that realization made me smile as well. She noticed, through her half-lidded eyes, and crinkled her nose in a curious expression: that only made my smile wider. A line appeared between her eyebrows, and I could guess at her question before it even left her lips. After all, it was one that I had asked her enough myself: "What are you thinking?"

"That I knew you would ask that."

"No, before that. What made you smile?"

"Watching _you_ smile."

"_Edward_… you're starting to talk like someone out of the movies."

I laughed softly. "Alright, I'll stop then, since I'm being so clichéd."

"I didn't say _that_. I happen to _like_ it."

"Bella, maybe you should stop watching _Romeo and Juliet_," I muttered, trying to hide my amusement.

Her gaze grew a little more lucid, and she shot a mock glare at me. "Well, then you'd better give me a better alternative. I'm not that much for most of Shakespeare's other plays."

"Poetry, then?" I whispered in her ear, "Victor Hugo, specifically. After all, the French are purported to be the experts when it comes to courtship." Her gaze was curious now. "You've never read any of it, have you?" I said, and she shook her head. I sighed. What were they teaching in public schools now, that they were neglecting the masters of verse? "English doesn't do it justice, but, well," I began, and stopped. Did she actually want to hear this? Her gaze was fixed: I obviously had her attention. So I began reciting, dropping my voice to a throbbing whisper, my eyes fixed on hers, begging her to see what I saw—

"As I have set my lip to your still brimming cup,  
as I have laid my forehead in your hands,  
as I have drawn the warm breath  
of your soul, wrapped in its redolence,

as I have heard you speak to me the words  
the heart pours forth to show its mystery,  
as I have seen, though weeping, yet seen smile,  
your mouth on my mouth, your eye into mine,

as I have felt on my astonished head  
the lightbeam of your star, still veiled,  
while into the waters of my life one rose leaf  
dropped out of the flurry of your days,

now I can say to the harrier of years:  
Go! I have nothing left to age! I'm done  
with you and all your withered flowers.  
I have here the flower none can cut!

Your wingstroke cannot shake from this cup  
one drop of what fills it to the brim.  
My soul has more fire than you have ashes!  
My heart has more love than you have dark!"

"Oh!" she exclaimed, her breath catching in her throat, and I smiled at the thought of how _tremendously_ clichéd and hackneyed this scene was: a man—or whatever title it was that was appropriate for me-- reciting poetry to his beloved. But even that realization couldn't change the depth of the feeling that coursed through me when I saw _that_ look on her face, the one that was so soft and caring.

"I knew you would understand," I whispered, touching my forehead to hers. Her warmth flooded through me, the fire of purification and life. I wondered if she knew what she granted me with her every touch.

"Edward…" she began, and I heard a hesitancy in her voice that made something in my chest contract. I wanted her to trust me implicitly, and yet couldn't allow her to. Too much was riding on her survival. A survival that the beast in my gut did everything in its power to prevent. I suspended that thought—it had no place in_ this_ moment—and laid a soft kiss on Bella's lips, accompanied by the words, "I'm listening" in the softest tones that I could manage. A gusty sigh burst from her lips, and I noticed that her eyes suddenly fixed themselves somewhere down around my chin. This had to be about the dream—and that _Jacob Black_—then. I bit my tongue, wary of saying something stupid and aware that coaxing would not help. I half hoped she would change her mind—my temper was not… stable where the boy was concerned. Alice had told me about him, the way he barely held himself together, even for Bella's sake. Even I could do more, and I was the one whose instincts screamed for me to take her life. He only ever had to spend part of his time as a beast: I was condemned to fight against the monster inside of me for eternity. At least he had the relief of being mostly human, with human behaviors. And never thirsted for Bella's blood.

I waited in patient silence, trying desperately to quell my prejudices so that I could lend my strength to Bella. Though I could not keep my thoughts from dwelling on the dangers of young werewolves, I could keep the words from forming on my tongue. I was so preoccupied with my own thoughts that I nearly missed the beginning of her statement—

"I know that you really… don't _like_ Jacob and the… the others," she began softly, "but I owe them a lot. My life, again and again." Here, her eyes darted to mine, pleading with me to at least _try _to understand. Ever-present guilt deadened my hearing: if it weren't for me and my foolish pride, she never would have needed their… _guardianship_. "And that's what frightened me so, about the dream. I was back in Arizona, in a canyon." Her tone was curiously dead, and I realized that she was trying to detach herself from it. I pulled her close to me: she offered no resistance and wrapped her arms around my neck. Her voice continued to flow: "It was dusk, and I could still see the sunset. It looked like a fire had consumed the sky, the clouds… everything. And the light it cast on the rock walls… it was like _blood_, Edward. The wind through the canyon was like hearing the voice of every dead Indian rising from the grave, and there was…_something_ in the adobe houses, something _watching_ and _waiting._" A shudder ran through her body; I began rubbing her back in small circles, hoping to soothe her. "And then Jacob was there, and someone growled, and it didn't sound like _you._" Her words took me aback. She knew my _growl?_ "I panicked. It was too much like listening to James growl, before…" she stopped, a stronger tremor bending her body to its will. Before I could say anything, she was clearing her throat again, preparing to begin. Brave, wonderful Bella. _Somehow, I _will_ make it up to you_, I promised silently. "And Jacob was different, _feral_ somehow. Not the Jacob I thought I knew, and it scared me. And then I saw Emily." A single tear coursed down her cheek: I could feel the damp spot it left on my shoulder. "All of her scars were opened, like Sam must have _just _attacked her and blood was everywhere and I could see my reflection in her eyes, and it was like she was begging me to _run, _and I just couldn't...And then I woke up."

I tucked one hand under her chin, tilting her face gently towards mine as I whispered fiercely, "And you're here with me. And always will be. Bella, I _swear _to you that I will never leave you to fend for yourself like that. It was just a dream, and it will _never_ come true Bella, never. So long as you will have me, I will be with you. Always." A weak smile spread across her face as she murmured, "And there are no canyons in Forks." I laughed, and the smile became something a little more real. I pressed my lips to hers tenderly momentarily, trying to impart what comfort and love that I could. When I drew my face back, she laid her head on my chest again, clearly tired. After a few moments, her soft whisper found my ears: "Edward?"

"Yes, Bella?"

"I love you. And… I want you to promise me something."

I paused. An open-ended promise? Could that be wise? "I love you too, Bella. And I will promise what I can."

"Don't leave before I wake up. And tell me what you would dream of, if you could."

Before saying anything, I pulled the covers around her, maneuvering her securely into the middle of her bed before settling next to her again. "If you promise to sleep, I'll stay until you wake. And as for the second, you had only to ask," I whispered, taking her into my arms again. She mumbled something that I took as an assent, and I begun my recitation. It was something I had thought about, many times, and I let my words fall gently on her ears. I spoke of the time that I desired to spend with her, the things I wanted to show her: sunsets on Mount Rainier, the glow of streetlights through the vibrant colors of fall trees, Chicago in the winter, tropical seas by night, when the sands gave up the heat they collected during the day and the lights at the end of a solitary pier painted highlights on the rolling waves. Nights like these, full of conversation that meant nothing to anyone else. Time, spent with her. That was the fabric of my waking dreams.


	19. Love You

Disclaimer: Sigh... I have no claim on the world of Twilight, etc... or Edward Cullen. They all come to the beck and call of one Stephenie Meyer.

A/N: It's not my fault if you don't get a cavity from this. Super sweet fluffy stuff again. And shorter than recent chapters. Sorry it took me so long to update, I kind of lost my groove and it took me a little while to find it again. I got distracted while writing something else and trying to figure out exactly how a future chapter is going to work. I still haven't figured it out quite yet... I may need someone to bounce ideas off of soon. Any volunteers for getting pelted by them?

* * *

Chapter Nineteen—Love You

I spent the rest of the night in visions too real to be the truth: a quiet day skipping rocks over the glassy surface of the ocean that washed against the rocky shore, an evening sitting on the porch discussing a time not rife with fear, all of them reflections of what Edward wanted for us. This, this dream state, was my gateway to his thoughts, his hopes—our hopes. Would they ever be fulfilled in the waking world?

Through the thick haze of sleep, I slowly became aware of a cool, tickling sensation in the vicinity of my throat. Without opening my eyes, I jerked the covers over my head and buried my face in my pillow. My ears caught the soft rumble of Edward's chuckle, and I belatedly remembered the events of last night as I threw back the quilt covering me and discovered his face in the dim light of earliest morning. His lips pressed against mine in the softest of kisses. "Good morning beautiful," he murmured, his tawny eyes sparkling. The marrow of my bones seemed to flame and melt under that stare—I was never going to grow accustomed to this, and that thought made my heart thrill. I _never_ wanted to be rid of this feeling. A smile curled my lips upwards and an answering grin appeared on his face, the lopsided one, my favorite. His face was inches away from mine as he leaned over me, a familiar, beloved visage. His scent filled my nose: it was the most dizzying concoction that I had ever inhaled and made my head spin even as I lay there with my head buried in a pillow.

"Did you sleep well?" he whispered, though he could probably answer that question himself, having heard every word that slipped from my mouth during my slumber. I answered anyways, a soft "How could I not?" and was rewarded with a certain loving look. I thought of how his eyes had seemed to sparkle with an ethereal light when he woke me this morning, and it made me wonder what exactly I had said during that nocturnal period. "And how was your night, and what did I say this time?" He chuckled softly, whispering, "Not even awake for five minutes, and you already have questions," and I could see the jest in his eyes. I waited patiently, studying the impish grin on his face. I must have said _something_ interesting to cause him to be wearing such an expression. The corner of his mouth twitched in suppressed laughter, and I realized that he was enjoying making me wait. I attempted to glare at him, but he suppressed that action quickly, driving all thoughts of insubordination out of my head with a rough kiss, one that held an edge of desire that he rarely revealed to me. My hands traveled to his face, tangling in his hair; his arms were already wrapped around me, pulling me halfway up into a sitting position.

His face pulled away from mine, regret written on every feature. "It's best we not toe the boundary any more right now," he murmured, his speech coming quickly. I was still too dazzled to respond with anything but a smile that matched the one plastered across his face.

Another long moment passed while he held me in his arms and I twirled his hair in my fingers. It was soft and supple and even shone in this dim light. Then, I remembered the unanswered question, and repeated it. He laughed softly, and then lowered his face to my ear, whispering, "It was nothing short of perfect. _How could it not be?_ Impossible for it to be anything but, when you spent all night whispering '_I love you'_ in dulcet tones. And do you know what else, Bella? _I love you too, shamelessly, irrevocably, undeniably. Forever and for all time._"

A warm blush flooded my cheeks and I felt the beginnings of tears forming in the corners of my eyes. "Edward," I whispered, forcing the words past the lump in my throat; he looked at me in surprise as he heard my voice break, "I don't think I could _ever_ ask for anything more than that, and I need you to know… that I feel the same way. Will always feel the same way… no matter what."

His expression was soft, loving. In that moment, I could have no doubts, no fears whatsoever as his lips caressed my face, brushing my closed eyelids and dwelling on my mouth tenderly.

Despite my spinning head, I became aware of the sound of the bathroom door creaking open-- apparently before it even registered with Edward-- and my eyes flashed open. He smiled knowingly, pushing me gently back down to the bed and pulling the covers up under my chin, despite the petulant expression that I knew was on my face. His face hovered above mine for an instant, a brilliantly glorious visage: he could be the son of Aphrodite herself.

"Sleep, Bella," he whispered, "dream sweet dreams. I love you." His breath in my face made my head whirl, and sleep began to claim me, even as I watched him lift the latch of my window and pause a moment, flashing that wonderfully, perfectly crooked smile for me. And then he was gone, as the veil of dreams dropped over my mind once more.


	20. Exultant

Disclaimer: See heading of the nineteen previous chapters.

A/N: I finally completed this chapter. It took me quite awhile to find the time to type, and then I had to figure out how "happy Edward" works. The end product is a bit shorter than some recent chapters, and sorry about that, but I finished it! It probably needs some serious editing, so let me know your opinions. Since the email notification system thingy seems to be down again, I'll say this now: to all of you who have reviewed, will review, and just like to be silent readers, thank you very much. I really appreciate it and love to hear from you.

Word of the day: Exultant-- from latin words meaning "to leap" and "intense"-- rejoicing

* * *

Chapter Twenty—Exultant

The moment my feet touched the ground, I was off, flying through the dim light. The landscape watered and blurred in my peripheral vision, a muddy green watercolor painting left out in the rain. Lightning flashed across the sky, heralding the tremendous crack of thunder that split the vaults of the heavens. A bit of sunlight gleamed weakly through a small gap in the clouds: it painted the scenery with a wash of diluted gold that shone oddly in this half-twilight of morning.

I had trouble keeping my thoughts together. Every time that they conglomerated into a cohesive mass they would be scattered by the memory of her scent, the texture of her tousled hair, the bright life shining in her eyes. With a smile, I remembered the petulant expression on her face when I had been forced to leave: the same look had appeared that first weekend that we had spent in the meadow clearing when I had refused to let her drive and she had asked if her presence had affected me at all. I still remembered my answer: "Regardless, I have better reflexes." Sometimes I found it amazing that I was even able to still speak around her, nevertheless keep my head. My tongue still thrilled to speak the words "I love you," my ears rejoiced to hear those words repeated back to me and something that I could only call my undead-dead heart throbbed in time with her pulse without ever beating once. Overlaying it all, like the pure and untainted light of the sun, was joy: joy to _exist_, to love, and to be able to, for a time, put aside the thirst of the clamoring beast.

I felt like I was skimming the heavens, lightning crackling above me in the sky, the earth flying past below. Somehow I had never felt so very _alive,_ so vibrantly happy merely to exist. No questioning of the state of my soul, no pondering of eternal truths… this was enough for now. Everything else could be put aside, for a time, for this was _our_ time…

The house, my home, appeared in my gaze almost too quickly, ending a brief moment of reflection, but a grin split my face anyways. In truth, I had missed my family desperately, but the pain had been overshadowed by the separation that I had enforced from Bella. But now, at this moment, I had all that was good in the world, all that was dear to me, within the city limits of a single town.

I raced to the door, flinging it open with a careless gesture only restrained by the need to not rip it from its hinges. I could hear the laughter inside, a fount of bubbling mirth. Alice looked up at me, her eyes sparkling brightly and an impudent smirk curving across her face. Her glance fell to the others, standing around the kitchen table, and one graceful hand extended towards them: Esme laughed as Emmett dug in his pocket, growling as he handed over a crisp banknote along with the words: "So you're right. Again. About everything, down to the rainwater soaking the floor, and him being completely oblivious." Jasper laughed, pulling his dainty wife close to his side. "I never know why anyone ever even bothers betting against you," he murmured, while Rosalie needled Emmett for his loss. Carlisle and Esme smiled: I merely retrieved a dishtowel from the kitchen, mopping up the water that I hadn't even noticed dripping off of me. In every single mind I could feel the radiating happiness, the essence of my family. How could I have ever left them? I knew _why_ I had left them, of course: I couldn't comprehend how I had survived with out them, even if I was the odd man out. I was still _family_.

Rosalie must have noticed the grin on my face, for she finally turned to me and said, in her usual, incredibly tactful way, "You are _positively_ manic-depressive, Edward."

I detected a note of hesitancy in her voice and in her mind, but there was still a small smile on her face. And I wasn't about to ruin the mood. For Bella's sake, I could forgive her.

"And it's all your fault," I rejoined, a full fledged smile on my face. "If not for you, I'd still be in some god-forsaken hovel in South America."

She looked a little startled at that. In fact, they all were quite surprised. Perhaps they were not yet used to see me out from a black and forbidding mood. Emmett was the first to recover, even though he still had one arm laced protectively around Rosalie's waist. He grinned up at me, a comrades-in-arms expression. The same look reflected on Jasper's features: my brothers, no matter what else they, or I, were. I heard the thought go skimming through Emmett's brain the moment it left his mouth, laden with a challenge: "If you're feeling so good, then, are you up for a game?"

"Name it," I shot back, feeling something beyond euphoric. Perhaps even…exultant. Yes, somehow that was fitting.

_Exultant. _


	21. Apply

Disclaimer: Roll a single dice. Whatever number comes up, go to that chapter and read the disclaimer there. Or, go off of your previous knowledge: I do not own Twilight, despite my dreams.

A/N: Three days, two chapters. Amazing, huh? Just to let everyone know, I won't be updating over the holiday. Before, and after, yes, but not during. Oh, yeah, and the chapter title is quite stupid, I know. It's really pretty much a set up for Bella filling out papers and getting frustrated... well, my idea-bouncer-offers know where I'm going with this. The rest of you simply must be patient with me, please, and trust that I'll get there someday.

To Reviewers, since I think the system is suffering somewhat (I don't get email alerts right now, even though I'm supposed to, so I bet you aren't either.) 

rin09 and LainieMichelle: This soon enough:)

Oh.Edward: Aww, you're so nice! Thanks for the compliment!

Vicky: Haha, thanks, and I won't say a word(You already did):)

SweetestCyn: Thanks, I really try to produce something worthy of reading. I appreciate all of you guys who review and have kept on reading, even if I do update sporadically. Let me know if I ever start to slip up!

emiliewhoa: Happy Edward is rather adorable, isn't he? I like him too.

Daimios: Thank you so much. This is the point where I'd like to get out a mirror and tell you to look closely in it... Everything that you have said about my writing being great can be said about your own, and much more. You are and AWESOME writer (it even shows in your reviews!) and I really appreciate your work. Again, thank you. I don't think that I can say it enough, but then I'd be annoying and all that. Hope you enjoy the next chapter, even if it isn't the lovely happy Edward we're _all _besotted by.

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Chapter Twenty One-- Apply 

I pulled the pillow off my face, groaning weakly and running my tongue around my dry mouth. My eyes refused to focus in the dim light straining through the curtains: I felt stiff and thoroughly disgusting. Sweat and tears had dried along my face, and while I may not have noticed them before, I couldn't dismiss the after-affects now.

I couldn't help but be _incredibly_ relieved that Edward wasn't there to see me like this. My eyes raked the room anyways, double-checking for his presence anyways. I didn't want him to see _me_ like this, but the thought of seeing _him_… Perhaps it would be worth it. It was useless thinking about it though, because he wasn't there.

I reluctantly swung my feet out from underneath the covers, curling my toes against the cold wooden floor. My eyes caught the green numbers on my alarm clock, flashing 12:00. The power must have failed during the night. I prayed fervently that we still had enough hot water for a decent shower as I dug through the drawer of my nightstand, searching for a watch, or any other timepiece.

11:03. My brow creased as I stared out the window: it was still strangely dark outside. I eased myself up off the bed and crossed to the window, stubbing my toe on the way. Edward was right: my stereo did not belong there. In fact, it was a bit of a hazard for someone like me. I batted aside the curtains impatiently, remembering what Edward had said about the storm system staying in Forks for the next few days when I saw the clouds hanging heavy and brooding over the horizon. That explained why I had stayed asleep for long: the combination of a wearying night and a lack of sunshine had allowed me to stay abed far past my normal waking time. I groaned: the day was already half over, and I'd done nothing at all so far.

I snagged my bag of shower supplies from its semi permanent home next to my desk and made my way to the bathroom with the hope that boiling my skin off for the second time in less than twenty-four hours would cure my feeling of hopeless apathy. There was a lot that needed to be accomplished today: I couldn't really afford a day off, even if it was a Saturday. I was only lucky that I wasn't scheduled to work at the Newton's shop today. Perhaps it was capitalizing on their pity, but I hadn't refused their offer to take off for a bit once they'd heard that I'd taken off, yet again. I was due to start back again on Monday, and fielding the questions from Mike was not going to be an enjoyable experience.

I undressed quickly, relieved to be free of the clinging fabric that still held the taint of fear. I stepped into the shower, turning it on, and nearly jumped at the shock of the chill water on my skin. Frowning, I adjusted the water temperature until it was satisfactory, then began kneading shampoo through my hair. Something about the action was conducive to inspired thought: topics for college essays ran through my head. Stories that I could tell, phrases I could use, characteristics that I admired in others, my own strengths and weaknesses: all were fodder to be used to get me into a university. I grinned wryly, thinking about some of my more life-changing experiences: I didn't think that any admissions officer would believe anything I had to say about the true identities of the Cullen family or what they were capable of. Instead, the images of the tide pools drifted through my mind again; perhaps they could be implemented somehow. Maybe used in a metaphor of some sort…

I pulled my fingers through my hair, working conditioner, with the same relaxing strawberry scent, through it now, my mind sifting through the names of the colleges I still needed to apply to. At least two had deadlines this week and three more had cut-off dates that fell by the end of the week after. Many deadlines had already passed, but Edward had suggested that I apply anyways and hope that my academic record was enough to impress them and sway them to disregard the deadline in my case: as he put it, the "must be post-marked by" date was more of a _suggestion_. In the long run it only meant that I wouldn't get early consideration. I supposed that if anyone knew about college applications, it would be him, although I doubted that he'd ever put off applying as long as I had.

After a few more moments the state of the rest of my afternoon and the glories of warm water, I turned the shower off and wrapped myself in a thick towel. The mirror was fogged over and the exhaust fan was running full-tilt—perhaps my shower had been a little too warm and too long. Steam added a light haze to the air, but I felt much better than I had a little over a half-hour ago. I readied myself quickly, tossing on an old pair of comfortable jeans and a rather baggy hooded sweatshirt: Forks air was still chill on my skin. I ripped a brush through my hair and pulled it up into a ponytail, seeing no sense in getting more complicated with it than I really needed to.

I eased the door open, my arms full of dirty clothes and bathroom paraphernalia. In a few short steps, I crossed over to my own room and dumped the whole of it on my floor: it could be taken care of later. For now, I had things to get done. I snagged the top few applications off of the stack—Edward had thoughtfully organized them by due dates—along with a pen and my favorite notebook and headed downstairs to work at the kitchen table.

_Time to apply myself,_ I thought, a cheesy grin on my face.


	22. Conniving

Disclaimer: Don't own world of Twilight. That privilege goes to Stephenie Meyer.

A/N: Had some fun with this, and yeah, it's still a little short. Anyways, it's my interpretation of "game days" with the Cullens. Has to be interesting to watch, and good for more than just one laugh. Anyways, this should be the last chapter before I'm headed off for break, so enjoy and have fun over the holiday!

* * *

Chapter Twenty Two-- Conniving

Emmett rolled the ball between his hands, smiling ecstatically as thunder boomed over our heads. I watched him suspiciously, waiting for him to make the first move. Carlisle and Jasper flanked my sides, with Alice and Rosalie waiting patiently behind us, plotting yet another shopping trip. They didn't fool me—they were waiting as alertly as any of the rest of us, very aware of every movement despite their relaxed demeanors. Esme sat on the sideline this time: she was the referee, a very important position in our adapted game of "soccer." Each individual was a team, aiming to get the ball past the flag designated as his or her "goal." There was no need for goalies in this game: whoever didn't have the ball at the time would unite against whoever did. As a result, we often played _very_ dirty games that made the brawls at European soccer stadiums look like playground tussles.

The cool mountain air ripped around the circular field; Emmett cast his eyes towards the sky with a slight frown. I heard the thought that ran through his mind: he was concerned that our few short days of games might be cut short if the storm blew over. I darted forward abruptly, knocking the ball from his hands and darting away quickly. Before I was more than a few long-legged steps away, someone crashed into my calves, knocking me to the ground. Rosalie dashed past me, laughing, ball now in her possession and headed towards the light pink flag that marked her goal The only thought that went through my mind was: _Pink. How typical of Rosie._ I felt the dead weight pick itself up off my legs: I leaped to my feet, eyeing Jasper critically. He was laughing too, and I heard the thought that he directed at me: _Can't go easy on you just because you've been gone!_

Emmett and Carlisle were already hot on Rosalie's trail, but Alice was sure to beat them: she was already standing in front of Rosalie's flag, poised to strike. Jasper and I glanced at each other, then dashed across the field at breakneck speed. Still, we were too late to do anything but laugh as Alice darted forward, neatly stealing the ball and tripping Rosalie in the same movement. Emmett was there in an instant, pulling Rosalie to her feet while her murderous thoughts went racing through my head. Jasper was already racing ahead towards Alice. I looked around the field as I ran: Where was Carlisle? I could catch the tenor of his thoughts: he was watching the action, of that I was sure, but I couldn't see him.

He suddenly sprang from his hiding place in the trees, catching Alice by surprise: she evidently hadn't seen _that_ one coming. Carlisle scooped up the ball in his hands, running for his own goal, but a whistle from Esme brought him up short. He looked at her, rather pitifully, as she began crossing the field, a "You-of-all-people-should-know-better" look on her face. Once she reached him, she lifted the ball out of his hands. Before she could say anything about the no-hands rule, Emmett barreled into them, knocking the ball loose. Seeing my chance, I raced forward, leaping over the tangle of family members ahead of me. I smiled triumphantly when I caught sight of the blue flag ahead: my goal was unguarded. With one kick, I sent the ball flying past, scoring the first goal of the game.

"CHEATER!" my siblings chorused. I turned about, an innocent grin on my face.

"What?"

"You scored during a time-out!" Rosalie said, digging one finger into my chest. Behind her, Emmett scowled. He never liked the possibility of losing. Esme and Carlisle only watched.

"That wasn't a time-out. That was Esme scolding Carlisle," I stated defensively.

"It counts for the same!"

"Does not!"

"Does!"

"NOT!"

Jasper, chuckling softly, interrupted us: "Admit it Edward, you're a cheater. And a blatant one at that."

I growled, some small part of me, oddly enough, enjoying this. "I use all opportunities presented."

"Including cheating."

"Not…. Cheating. Capitalizing on distractions. Besides, you're the cheater, you're not _supposed_ to tackle people in _soccer,_ Jasper! Even you should know that, although your brain has probably turned to dust by now, you old relic!"

"Not _supposed_ to, but not prohibited from it either, and at least I have the brains not to insult Carlisle!"

I hadn't exactly thought out the repercussions to my comment. Jasper was right: Carlisle was much older than him, and what I had said was not exactly flattering. But I could be concerned about that later, if ever.

"Well, you're not prohibited from scoring during a time-out either!"

"Are too!"

"Oh come on, like we really have real rules to this game?" That was Rosalie, bored and probably pouting by now.

_You all lose._

That was Alice. My eyes darted about, searching for her.

There she was. Sitting next to her lime-green flag, a smirk on her face.

_33-1-0-0-0-0. I win._

"Conniving little fox!" I yelled.

That smirk only grew wider.


	23. Irritations

Chapter Twenty-Three-- Irritations

I wasn't even bothering to pretend to stare at the papers scattered across the table anymore. Instead, my eyes were focused on some far off place while my fingers curled in my own hair, twisting the soft strands that had escaped from my ponytail. Some of the shorter hairs had curled into small little ringlets resembling the curls that covered my father's head. His figure intercepted my vision, probably for over the hundredth time that afternoon: his eyes were always turned towards the driveway, on the watch for a certain silver Volvo.

I suddenly understood why he hadn't left to go fishing that morning. For the first time in my life, I felt a strange desire to growl—but that was Edward's area of expertise, not mine. Instead, I sighed rather gustily. I must have sounded a little perturbed because I found Charlie's eyes trained on me when I stole another glance at him. I forced a smile: no use giving him any reason to suspect me. Not that he needed one, with my current track record. Felons at the state penitentiary were probably under a less strict guard than I.

I flipped a page in frustration, hoping for a new view: anything but this same list of questions that I probably knew by rote. I drew my tongue between my teeth, biting down on the tip of it in frustration. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was suffocating under the weight of this paper mountain: I wanted, desperately, to let loose a torrent of self-pitying tears. I had backed myself into a corner on this one: I had to face the decisions now. I had the distinct feeling that I was nothing more than yet another number to these people. Why should they care about my history? My father's name, education level, mother's maiden name, income level… what did it all matter to them? I was transcribing bits of my life to these dead sheets destined for paper shredders. A trickle of salty blood wound around my mouth before I even realized that I had bitten my tongue and became suddenly aware of the pain. I frowned, and felt the distinct lines that creased my brow begin to form. I needed a break, and very badly. If I were that type of teenager, I would probably settle for a shot of alcohol, but I wasn't, and couldn't ever be, that kind of person. I was just different. Maybe that was the real rub of these college applications: just yet another reminder that I wasn't the average teenager. I hadn't ever been. Once, in what seemed like another life, my AP Lit teacher had told me something: I was aloof. I knew she meant it kindly, that I was above and beyond the rest of my classmates, but the burn was still there, with the conviction that no one would ever understand me.

Until Edward.

I pulled myself back from memory's well, forcing my eyes to focus on the page, only to stare in disbelief at the folded piece of notebook paper that had been inserted there: it was too close to being exactly what I was hoping for.

With a hand that trembled slightly I reached for it, half expecting it to turn into dove or something else equally impossible and fly away. The smooth, familiar texture of the paper brought me back to my senses: I was being silly and had probably just been sitting here with my paperwork for far too long. With that in mind, I flipped it open, preparing myself for the disappointment that a merely misplaced sheet of notes would bring.

My heart began to beat rapidly when my eyes discerned his gently flowing script, as it always did. My eyes razed the page hungrily, taking in the two short lines there:

**A third of the way through. **

**Congratulations.**

That was _it?_ I had chained myself to these papers, at his insistence, and _that_ was all the encouragement that I got? Greeting cards were more effusive! I flipped the paper over, searching for another line, some signifier of some sort. A rational portion of my mind whispered that he was only avoiding making Charlie more uncomfortable, should he find the note, but I was refusing to listen. I _wanted_ and needed some sort of distraction, and this was working all too well. It was all his fault that I even had to do these applications: one simple bite would change all that. One bite, and a chance at immortality with him, was all that I asked. Even if he thought it would interfere with my eternal destination, wasn't that my choice and my choice alone? I could be just as easily condemned to Hell for being a murderer as for becoming a vampire. It was _my_ choice. And what if the atheists were right—what if there were no God, no Supreme Being to judge and to categorize the mass of humanity? Or what if He existed and was a merciful being—surely He would not condemn those who acted on the instincts that He had given them—would He?

I forcefully shoved the all too short note into the pocket of my jeans, fuming and frustrated—religious contemplation was not my forte. It made me feel lost, more lost than I had ever been, even in Port Angeles. For a moment, indecision held sway over my body and I continued to stare at the application before flipping it shut. Irritation gnawed at my innards: I needed to get out of this house and get some fresh air. I prowled to the refrigerator, wondering how to broach the subject to Charlie. When I opened the door and the harsh light of the interior light bulb fell on the nearly bare shelves, I realized that I had my excuse right there: The grocery shopping really needed to be done. Very, very soon. Today, this afternoon, in fact.


	24. Boys will be Boys

Disclaimer: The usual stuff.

A/N: So, here's another little snippet of the boys playing. It's not long by any stretch of the imagination, but I may extend it soon. Not now though, since I"m _supposed_ to be studying. The good news, however, is that I'm already almost halfway done with the next Bella chapter.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Four

Emmett was going to try to kill me. There was no doubt about that—I had now won too many games, and even if I did trail behind Jasper and Carlisle, he was more upset that he trailed behind _me_. He could accept defeat at the hands of Jasper or Carlisle marginally well, as they were by far older and more experienced than either of us, but to allow me to win was intrinsically against his nature.

He was glowering magnificently: I smiled, unable to keep a self-assured smirk off of my face. I could tell it from his face and didn't even need to hear his thoughts: this was war. However, I couldn't banish the images racing through Emmett's head: scenes of my humiliation and his victory. They only made my smirk wider, and his expression more forbidding.

Carlisle's voice broke through our deadlocked gaze: "Boys, this is to be a fair, _relatively clean_ game, please." Jasper snorted—no game of ours was _ever_ clean, not even relatively so. And now that the girls had departed—to go shopping, of course—things were only about to get worse. We were spread about the field, dimly aware of the thick haze the rain made of the electrified air. "Emmett, that means no cheap shots. Same for you Edward. And Jasper." We all grinned—we knew perfectly well that, with vampires, nothing really was a cheap shot, which was one of the advantages of practically being a moving marble statue. I supposed we could hurt one another, as it is possible for one vampire to destroy another, but that wasn't exactly likely to happen anytime soon, _unless_ I began taunting Emmett…

Carlisle twirled the Frisbee in his hands. "Are we all clear on the rules?" he asked, to be quickly answered by Jasper: "Yeah. Catch the Frisbee, throw the Frisbee, slaughter whoever has the Frisbee—It's simple enough. Even Edward shouldn't have any problems following the rules this time."

I hid my laugh with a soft growl, but Jasper laughed at me anyways. Perhaps the best reward was his thought_—Good to have you back again. Now, prepare to** lose**_ He and Emmett were teamed against Carlisle and I, for this game—this looked to be a promising battle.

The white disc went flying from Carlisle's hand—I raced forward, only to be met by Emmett's bulk driving me to the ground as Jasper snatched the Frisbee from the air with deft fingers. My head hit the ground with a wet thud and I grimaced at the idea of the mud that would be plastered in my hair. Emmett was off again in an instant, racing to catch Jasper's latest throw: I was up on my feet and after him in an instant, racing ahead of him to make the catch and propel the disk across the field to Carlisle just in time.

By the time the game was over, we had all had our share of time in the mud—Carlisle, Jasper, and I were all caked from head to toe, but Emmett was probably the worst off—A dive for the Frisbee had led him to crash into the trees and he was now bedecked with brambles and dead leaves from the forest floor. A small section of woodland looked to be even worse off though—he had destroyed two saplings with his exuberant catch. Despite his appearance, he was still smiling, as he and Jasper had pulled a last minute victory with that very catch: I wanted nothing more than to wipe that smirk off of his face.

"I'm still ahead, you know" I said smugly. His face fell marginally, and then, before I could react, he barreled into me, knocking me to the ground once more. A quick wrestling match ensued: I remained pinned to the ground, as Jasper decided to aid Emmett by sitting on me, adding with a small smile: "It's only fair you know—I've had to be his playmate much more than normal, since you've been goofing off. I believe it's _your_ turn now." Carlisle, watching from the sidelines, laughed—"As long as you're not in the house. Your mother would kill us all."


	25. Clumsy

Disclaimer: I've got no claim on the world of Twilight. I've only got the clumsiness that most people associate with Bella Swan. Now, where's the vampire boyfriend who's going to save my life? (Honestly though, I really am very clumsy. I stuck my finger in an outlet by accident the other night. No, I'm not hurt-- I was just a little shocked by the whole experience)

A/N: I suppose it's fair to let you know now that I won't be writing over my break-- don't be too distraught, it's abnormally short. So, to everyone, happy whatever-holiday-you-celebrate and see you next year!

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Five

Amazingly enough, it had taken only a few moments to convince Charlie to let me out of the house by myself—I guess, from the way that he figured it, food was essential to his survival, and so was me being out of the small house while I was in this particular mood. Besides, he'd know if I went somewhere I wasn't supposed to—nearly all of Forks seemed to know that I was on probation, despite that the fact that neither my father nor I had ever said a word about it. Really, I couldn't fathom why any of them would care—other than having a vampire for a boyfriend, there wasn't anything interesting about me as an individual. There were times when I even bored myself, to think of it.

I took the turn into the grocery store parking lot slowly: there was no point in risking anything in this old truck in the deluge pouring from the sky. Once I turned the key in the ignition, I sat in the heavy silence for a moment, feeling the dull thud of my heart in my body: the vibration seemed to echo in my empty lungs, driving my cursed blood forward relentlessly. Perhaps a few more months, and it would never beat again. The tapping of rain on the roof reminded me of the ticking of a clock—a few more hours and days of mortality, and that was it. I tangled my hands in my own hair, a distant distress clutching at the pit of my stomach. To have the love of my life, I must walk away from this, from Charlie, from Renee, from Phil even. I knew I couldn't walk away from Edward—but I didn't want this choice that wasn't a choice. I could never turn from Edward, couldn't do it anymore than I could destroy the remnants of my own family. What was it that I had done that was so deserving of this rending of my heart? Would I spend the centuries that were to follow this one wondering what lay behind the door of Death that I had bypassed?

Just as I felt that I was on the verge of an epiphany, violet streaked lightning lit the sky: the thunder that followed it made me jump and sent my heart beating even more quickly. Irritated, I slid from the driver's seat and directly into a puddle: I was going to be soaked. I ran as quickly as my human clumsiness allowed me to the shelter of the building. The warm air from the interior of the grocery store greeted me like a comforting blanket: there was no need to consider mortality when you were shopping for food, which was a relief. This relentless cycle of musings was, quite frankly, depressing.

I ambled through the store, pushing my grocery cart ahead of me. I pulled items from the shelves a little haphazardly, concentrating mostly on instant, dinner-in-a-box concoctions that wouldn't tear me away from studying for long: my schoolwork was desperately in need of attention, as Edward continued to remind me.

I saw the glass jar of maraschino cherries wobble and spin as I nicked it with the back of my wrist. A sinking feeling grew in the pit of my stomach as I reached out to steady it: too late. The small red container plummeted earthwards, despite my fumbling efforts. "Holy crow," I said, wincing as it struck the linoleum, splattering the sweet contents everywhere, even all over me. I stared forlornly at the mess, the blood rushing to my cheeks in embarrassment. Overhead, the PA system kicked on: "Clean up in aisle two". The flush on my cheeks burned now: they must have been watching, waiting for this disaster, for me.

I grabbed a replacement jar of the offending food and darted out of the aisle. I didn't want to have to stay there any longer than necessary to continue to be identified as the culprit. Still, even being absent from the scene of the crime wasn't enough: the crimson stains on my cheeks and the splatters on my pants gave me away. I cursed myself for not bringing Edward along—his reflexes more than made up for mine and usually kept me out of trouble like this. But no, he was with his family, playing for as long as the storm lasted. A gusty sigh ripped from my lips: I wasn't sure if I regretted or wished his absence more. The time to myself was wonderful—except when I started thinking—but then again, he was almost… an extension of myself. Being with him wasn't like being with anyone else. The only person who had ever come close to the kinship we shared was Jacob Black: and he wasn't talking to me right now. Perhaps not ever again. The truth stung when I admitted it like that, but my stubborn mind pushed it aside, insisting that there would be a resolution to all of our conflict, whether Edward liked it or not.

I picked through the aisles, being more careful now and trying to make the thoughts whirling through my head subside. I was going to have a migraine soon, which would not make my evening any more pleasant. As it was, I was not exactly expecting an enjoyable day: I would be stuck in the too-small house, which always made me irritable, even if I had no where to go. Add in the absence of Edward for most of the time and the constant rain that interrupted my sleep and it was a recipe for disaster, even without the threat of the massive paperwork waiting for me on the kitchen table.

No, tonight was most definitely not going to be a good one.


	26. Consequences

Disclaimer: Twilight's still not mine.

A/N: Yeah, I know, it's been way more than a month since I updated... I'm sorry. I really thought that this would go much more quickly than it did.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Six

I felt like a convict: Jasper and Emmett stood on either side of me, dripping watery mud and debris. Carlisle stood across from us, looking like a forbidding one-man firing squad, his revolver replaced by a green garden hose dangling from one hand while the other was poised on the brass knob jutting out from the side of the house. His gimlet eyes rested on us. A distant thought crossed my mind: _So this is how a reprobate toddler feels._

"You boys brought this on yourselves. You're not stepping foot into that house until you're at least _somewhat_ clean. And don't get _anything_**_anywhere_** or your mother will kill us all."

"Why'd she paint everything white again?" Emmett mumbled rebelliously. "I mean, really, with a perpetual teenager like _Edward_ around…"

My hand smacked into the back of his head; he stumbled forward and turned to glare at me. I smirked cheekily, suppressing laughter at the thoughts going through his head. He launched himself at me again, catching me around the middle and driving me to the ground. I groaned—he laughed. Jasper plucked him off of me, chuckling. "Come on Emmett, we've really got to let him get cleaned up. Bella will have our heads if we're the reasons he's late, and he really needs to clean himself up," he said, wrinkling his nose in my direction, "And really, Edward, you smell…bad."

I growled at him, picking myself up from the ground and preparing to attack: then a stream of water hit me in the side of the head, driving thought from my head. Carlisle laughed as he directed the hose at me: "He's right, you know: Bella will want to see you soon. And even an _old relic_ like me isn't so dense as to believe that she wants you showing up on her doorstep like_ that."_ I looked down at myself: truly, I was in worse condition that any of the others. I'd lost my shoes and one sock somewhere while running, my pants were torn and stained, and my shirt hung off of one shoulder, stretched from Jasper pulling on it in an effort to slow me down. Random blades of grass clung to me, along with bits of forest debris. I grinned: "You know, I really think she'd still take me."

"Edward, you look like a pile of yard waste," Jasper said, raising one eyebrow at me.

"A thoroughly pummeled pile of yard waste," Emmett added.

"I'm still more handsome than both of you!"

"You wish. You look like you have a mop on your head."

I opened my mouth to retort, but found it filled with water instead. I gagged, instinct forcing me to cough up the liquid. Carlisle's expression was just a bit too innocent. He was, however, stern as he commanded us to stop bickering and told me to take a lap around the yard: running at full speed would dry me enough that I would not have to worry about the consequences of tracking mud all throughout the house. I sped off, smiling. Although an outsider might think that we were all mortal enemies, a careful observer would see that every word was only playful banter. That we truly were a family, despite a lack of biological ties.

I leapt to my feet, sprinting away: their thoughts still followed me. The mental voice that was distinctly Emmett's rang through most clearly: _You know, I bet Bella would enjoy playing our little games. I don't think that I could pick a human that I would like to have as a little sister more. We all like her—even Rose is coming around. And you know how hard it is to get her to do that. Just think about it—what it would mean to all of us. And to her. _

My feet hit the ground a little faster, driven by the desire to leave behind the thoughts—the temptations. I knew every aspect of Emmett's argument: After all, it was one that I had used against myself many times. Now, at this moment, it was not something I wanted to think about. Instead, I wished to dwell on the intense joy I felt at being alive—something I had never felt in such a manner before Bella came into my life.

It didn't take me long to dry off, shower, dress, and get ready to go. Carlisle, Jasper, and Emmet were just coming inside as I dashed down the stairs, eager to be going. Carlisle caught me by the shoulder as I was about to leave, a smile on his face. "I don't think you know yet—but one of Esme's paintings got accepted for the premiere of a little gallery in Seattle. Why don't you see if Charlie will let you take Bella? It's April seventh, seven o'clock—that's this weekend. And congratulate your mother when you get home."

I was dumbfounded—I hadn't even known that Esme had been painting anything but old houses in the past few months. A small wave of guilt swept through me: this was one more piece of evidence of how distant I had been from my family. "Thanks, Carlisle," I said, smiling gratefully. He rolled his eyes at me, his thought coming across clearly; _Go see Bella already—She has to be impatient to see you by now._ A smile flashed across my face as I darted out the door and I raced to my car, eager to see Bella again.


	27. Playing the Part

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Stupid store. Stupid small town. Stupid rain. Stupid me.

I gathered up the last few items on my mental checklist, postponing the moment of purchase as long as possible. The splatters of maraschino cherry juice were still evident across my pants. I couldn't keep the blush off of my face as I pushed the cart up to the checkout—I was a fool. It would be so much easier to pretend that it had never happened, that I hadn't been born with a severe balance deficit and a knack for getting into trouble. The aged cashier eyed my flushed face with a confused expression: I felt even more blood rush to my cheeks. Holy crow, sometimes trying to be a good person just didn't feel worth it.

"I-uh-I…"

I was an idiot. A stammering, blundering _idiot._

"Umm, I broke a jar of cherries earlier… and um, I'm really sorry. I uh, I want to pay for the one I broke too, and um, I'm really very sorry," I finally managed to say, embarrassment coloring my cheeks. _Oh, if Edward could see me now._ _I don't think he's ever seen me play the part of an imbecile quite so thoroughly._

The lady continued to stare at me as I held the small jar of maraschino cherries out. She plucked it out of my hand and scanned it twice, cracking her gum in her mouth. I quickly unloaded the rest of the cart, fumbling items in my haste. Her eyes caught mine—thankfully, she didn't look too annoyed. Just bored—the same as everyone else in this small town. As soon as she read off the total, I pulled the cash from my pockets, smoothed out the crumpled bills, and handed them over. She popped her gum again and a swell of irritation rose through me. Her habits were more suited to a teenage school-girl and I couldn't help but pity the poor children who had to call her "Grandma."

I shoved my purchases into the bags myself, not content to wait upon the bag-boy who just happened to be missing in action. Just as a precaution, I doubled the layers—the last thing that I needed was for my groceries to burst through the bags and go rolling all across the parking lot. As it was, I was extremely clumsy in grabbing them from off of the bagging table. I rushed out the door, fumbling in my pockets for my keys—they had to be there somewhere. By the time that I reached my truck, they still hadn't shown up; I saw why when I glanced at the driver's seat of my truck. There they lay, mocking me with their bright shine on this gloomy day. The rain coursed down my face, inviting tears to join the droplets. I leaned forward, closing my eyes against the impulse to cry and resting my head against the glass. This was a horrible day.

I pulled the door handle—no such luck. For once, I had actually locked the doors. I pushed on the window, hoping that I could get it down just enough to stick my arm through and pull the lock. That didn't work either. I stared at the monstrous vehicle, dismayed. The rain was pouring down and I was thoroughly soaked and beginning to shiver. There was only one thing left to do. I had to go back in there and call Charlie because there was no way that I could fix this by myself.

I drug myself and my purchases back into the store, cheeks flushed again with embarrassment. Luckily, a payphone was located not far from where I stood. I dug in my pockets again: I sighed in relief as I found a stray quarter and dropped it in the slot. I dialed my phone number quickly, thankful that Charlie had not gone fishing today of all days. The ringing ceased—"Hello?" It was Charlie, but he didn't sound like himself. He almost sounded…mad.

"Dad?"

"Yeah, Bells. What's the matter?"

"I, uh, locked myself out of the truck."

"Do you know where the extra set of keys is?" I could hear a slight murmur in the background, and a muffled response from Charlie—was someone there?

"There, um, isn't one."

"We'll have to fix that then," he said, "but I can still get you back into your car. You're still at the grocery store, right?"

"Yes, Dad," I responded, rolling my eyes to myself. I was expressly grounded from going many other places.

"Alright, Bells. I'll be there in a bit. And Edward says he's coming too." Edward—he must have been the source of the background noise. No wonder Charlie hadn't sounded like himself at first: things were a bit tense between the two and I was sure that neither of them appreciated being alone with the other.

"Okay Dad. I'll wait inside. See you when you get here."

"Bye. Love you."

"Love you too Dad." The words still felt strange on my tongue, but I said them anyway, as I knew how they made him feel. I hung up the phone and took a seat on a nearby bench with my head hanging between my hands—this day ranked right down there with all the days that I'd been nearly killed by vampires.

* * *

A/N: I actually did just this over Christmas (locking the keys in the car)--even after having a little discussion with myself about how stupid it would be to lock the only set of keys inside the car before I went in to my hair appointment...and I had to call the cops to unlock my car. So I now know all about how they do it. 

Consider this as my offering of good will and an apology for not having updated sooner--2 chapters in under a week.

Disclaimer: Yeah, you know the drill.


	28. Too Good

A/N: HA! FFN is working again! So anyways, this update is long overdue and not really that great and all of that but hey, at least it's an update, right?

Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah, don't rub it in, Twilight doesn't belong to me.

Edit: Haha, I'm an idiot. Apparently at one point I actually wrote "Chief Cullen" instead of "Chief Swan!" Chalk one up to being sleep deprived while writing!

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Eight

I was going to have to make this one up to Charlie—I had just put him through his own personal Hell.

Was it so very wrong that I was one the verge of laughing as I leapt out of the passenger's seat of the cruiser and jogged—very slowly for me—to the doors of the store, searching for my Bella?

As I was driving down her street earlier that day, I had noticed that the red monstrosity that she called a truck was gone, an unusual occurrence on a quiet Saturday afternoon like this one. I had nearly resolved to continue driving past until it occurred to me that I still needed to gain Charlie's permission to take Bella out this weekend and that there was no time like the present. After all, the man's thoughts were already centered on me and there was no way possible that he would dismiss the appearance of a silver Volvo on his street as a mere coincidence.

He had admitted me into the house reluctantly after explaining that Bella was not home, but should be back shortly. I know that he meant for his dark, forbidding looks to change my mind, but Charlie Swan had no idea what he was up against: as Esme had so frequently pointed out, I could be as immovable as a brick wall if I so wished to be. Today, I wished to be. And to top it all off, I was in an _incredibly_ good mood—it was hard to keep the silly grin off my face, even with Charlie ready to crucify me. Or, at the very least, interrogate… from the direction his thoughts were going, he obviously wasn't going to wait very much longer before demanding—

The brisk ringing of the phone had interrupted my thoughts, as well as Charlie's. Saved by the bell. Still, the man had glared at me a moment longer before lifting the phone of the hook and answering brusquely: "Hello?"

Near silence on the other end—my ears had picked up the faint _beep_ing of a scanner, footsteps…

Bella's voice—"Dad?" She was still in the grocery store. That explained everything…

I had pretended to jerk to attention when Charlie uttered his special nickname for her and asked her what was wrong. Really, I couldn't have been paying any more attention than I already was. Her voice resonated, clear but subdued, over the phone line: ""I, uh, locked myself out of the truck."

I hated her truck. It was a disaster waiting to happen. There was always something about to fall apart. Really, the attachment that she had for that monstrous beast she called a vehicle was absurd. With a new car—or, considering that this was Bella, perhaps something more along the lines of Emmet's nearly indestructible Jeep would be best—she wouldn't have any of these problems. And the truck was so inconvenient! A newer automobile would be equipped with an electronic key pad for keyless entry: perfect for Bella, who could lose things faster than even I could find them.

Charlie's voice had broken through my thoughts again—"Do you know where the extra set of keys is?"

Even I had known that there wasn't an extra set. Still, to cover my tracks, I caught his eye and half-whispered: "Locked her keys in the car?" He covered the mouthpiece and muttered an affirmative response reluctantly. I waited patiently for him to finish, adding nothing more to the conversation than that I would be accompanying him. He didn't seem to be too fond of the idea but didn't protest.

The car ride had been interesting, to say the least. After a few moments of awkward silence, Chief Swan suddenly went into investigating police officer mode, bursting with questions: If I knew that Bella cared, _why_ had I left? Didn't I _know_ what would happen?

_No,_ I hadn't known what would happen. I'd left because I'd _had_ to, not because I wanted to. I loved her, wanted to be with her the rest of my life—but I thought that she didn't want the same. So leaving her was the only thing that I could do for her, a sacrifice that I could make for her, to let her move on with her life. That was the only reason that I agreed with Carlisle's opportunity to change employment. If not for me, we would have stayed. And then our family couldn't take it anymore: we came back.

Every word was true. Ambiguous, but heartbreakingly, achingly true.

You could cut the tension in the cab of the cruiser with a knife. Charlie was feeling guilty: I knew that much. Still, we had one thing in common: neither one of us would be able to forgive me for breaking Bella's heart. But I could begin to make amends.

"I know that Bella's still grounded, but well, Chief Swan—" I began, but he cut me off, gruffly muttering, "It's still Charlie."

That was a good sign—I smiled. "Well, Charlie, I was just wondering if it would be alright if I took Bella to a gallery opening in Seattle," here he turned to glare at me, but I continued before he could open his mouth, "because Esme had a painting accepted into the show and she would love it if Bella were there too. I know Alice would be excited to see her too."

Perhaps that was a bit low of me, throwing in Alice's name like that: I knew that Charlie appreciated my sister and would deny her nothing it was in his power to give, especially after all that she had done for Bella. Still, it worked—he reluctantly complied with my request, then went on mumbling about an early curfew and something else that I didn't pay attention to. From his thoughts, I could gather that he really didn't like the idea—or me, for that matter. And he especially did not like having to grant me what I asked or remaining there with me in an enclosed space.

That was why it had been a bit of a relief to leap out of the car and search for Bella. That, and the wait to see her face had seemed interminably long.

Her scent assailed me as soon as I crossed the threshold: how could a fragrance so delicate be so incredibly powerful? I could happily spend the rest of my life with only that aroma in my nostrils, because that meant that she would be there, that I would be able to see that slow, secret smile that crept over her lips every time we kissed and hear her voice ring in my ears, more powerful than any melody. I crossed the small distance between us, gently lifted her face with one hand and kissed her soft, full mouth as I drew her up to stand beside me.

"You know," she whispered breathlessly, "I think _that_ makes up for everything else that's happened today."

"Does it really? I suppose I won't be able to kiss you anymore today then, if that makes everything better. After all, we don't want you feeling _too _good, do we now?" I teased. She smirked for a moment before standing on her tiptoes and kissing me full on the mouth.

"As far as I'm concerned, there's no such thing as 'too good' or too many kisses from you," she whispered, lips still against mine.

I laughed, holding her tight to my chest. Bella, my precious Bella. No, there was not such thing as 'too good', not when it concerned her.


	29. Dads Are Insane

Hiya!

Hehe. My apologies for the shortness of this chapter... I promise I"ll clean it up some, sooner or later!! As it is, I'm lucky that I got this much up... hopefully I'll be able to find more time to write this summer!

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Nine

It was a bit of an awkward moment when my father walked into the grocery store, just in time to see me initiating a kiss with Edward. Fortunately Charlie only coughed discreetly, eliciting a low chuckle from Edward. I glared up at him: "You can carry the groceries."

"Anything for you," he responded, biting back a low laugh.

"You've got that right," I responded mockingly, crinkling my nose at him. I couldn't help it: having him so near me and in an obviously good mood lifted my spirits considerably. Come to think of it, that was probably the only reason that Charlie let him even come to the house. It certainly served my purposes.

We followed my father outside to my truck, Edward with every last grocery bag in one hand while the other arm was occupied in being wrapped around my waist. Sometimes he just _had_ to show off: I couldn't really blame him. After all, what was the point in having a thousand super-human qualities and no use for them? The fact that he trusted me enough to let me see them, to show that part of his life to me, was amazing and made my heart thrill: he trusted me. Not only did he love me, he _trusted_ me. That was more than Romeo and Juliet had ever had, and all that I needed. Everything else would work, I told myself, so long as we had our love and our trust.

He guided my gently to the cruiser, obviously loathe to let me remain in the rain a moment longer than necessary. I smiled to myself, vowing not to tell him about all the times that I had played in the rain, both as a child and more recently. Knowing him, he might just give me a lecture on the risk of being struck by lightning. While sitting alone in the cruiser and watching Charlie and Edward attempt to unlock the truck I amused myself with what he might say in such a theoretical lecture. Something about lightning being drawn to magnets—and I was already a lodestone for trouble. As odd as it was, I had begun to appreciate my penchant for finding danger: it kept Edward close, closer than Charlie knew.

By the look on his face, Charlie was far too close to Edward at the moment—I hardly ever saw that scowl. Apparently, Edward had bypassed the usual maneuvers that a cop like Charlie would have used—to me, they seemed to be nothing more than jiggling the interior mechanisms of the car with a bunch of convoluted wiring—and somehow popped the door open. Oh, if looks could kill… I'd have to remember to remind Edward to be a little less "helpful" later. After all, Charlie still had his pride. Even with that in mind, it was hard not to laugh as Charlie slumped into the driver's seat of the cruiser, his face matching the dark thunderclouds in the sky above. His eyes found mine as he grumbled, "You're in an awfully good mood all of a sudden."

"Well, I guess I just like rainy days," I answered, smiling to myself. Oh, how I loved rainy days… they always meant that Edward was there, after all.

"Quite a change from Phoenix, isn't it?"

"You could say that. A good change. A great one, even. Life here in Forks isn't anything that I ever could have imagined it to be." _And nothing at all like you think it is, Charlie. I only wish that I could tell you… To have your blessing when I make the decision to end my human life…_

The lights on the dashboard flickered to life as the key turned in the socket and the engine hummed to life. Behind us, my old truck sputtered and coughed to life, the headlights gleaming in the mirror. For a moment, silence filled the space between us, my father and I. And then, hesitatingly, he glanced at me, his face soft now.

"I'm glad Bella. Hearing that… it makes me happier than you could know."

I smiled, a hint of an expression that matched the look on his face. He reached out one hand, smoothing my hair back from my face. And then, with a smirk on his face, he fluffed it recklessly, turning my hair into a rat's nest.

I grinned anyways.

Dads. They must all be at least partially insane…


	30. Levity

**A/N:** Well, it's short. Too short, considering I've kept you guys waiting, what, six months now? Eight? This chapter and I weren't getting along. My life and I weren't getting along, to be precise. Working on that. Edward's a little OOC, but let me know what you think. Sorry it took so long, I promise I'm not abandoning this fic. Anyway, here goes!

(Oh, and to the 267 reviewers (many of you repeat-reviewers hugs), 98 alert-adders, 107 fav-ers, and for the 55, 557 hits--THANK YOU! You make me smile. Have I told you lately that I love you? starts singing...Ok, on with the story! For real this time!)

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Chapter Thirty--Levity

I scowled at the speedometer as the needle, faded from time and sunlight, hovered right around 55—this truck was so _slow._ Slower than frozen molasses. Slower than Mike Newton when it came to understanding that Bella was off-limits.

And I could still smell the werewolf, his scent mixing with the dusty scent of the interior and Bella's own particular fragrance. The resulting odor was something like that of a wet dog soaked in a freesia-scented shampoo…the mental image brought a smirk to my face. Oh, if only Jacob Black and the rest of his tribe were as easily dealt with as the average canine. Still, they didn't pose a genuine threat—more of an inconvenience.

Charlie's grumbling thoughts caught my attention: "_Kid like him, getting the door open like that…how'd he manage it?" _My smirk grew a little deeper._ Talent, Charlie, pure talent,_ I thought. He'd looked offended when I had managed to open the door before he had—motivation for me to offer to drive the rusty excuse for a vehicle while he took Bella home in the cruiser. He had seemed relieved: he must not have been looking forward to the inevitable awkward silence that would surely have followed otherwise either. I believed that such a situation would fall under the jurisdiction of the Eighth Amendment—it definitely answered the definition of cruel and unusual.

I hated this truck. It wasn't safe—I could hear it vibrating into pieces all around me. To me, the engine didn't rumble—it wheezed with emphysema. Bella's attachment to the vehicle wasn't anything that I could understand, much as I couldn't understand her attachment to the wolf. I wondered idly what she would think if I pointed out that Carlisle and Esme both prefer wolf to any other item on our vegetarian menu. But I wouldn't do that to her: I might, however, suggest it to Jacob some day…

_Ugh,_ what a horrible smell, a feral stink that I couldn't get out of my nose! My thoughts kept coming back to it, hating the way that it mingled with something so pure as Bella's scent. Rosalie was sure to make me burn my clothes—no detergent would ever get this smell out. Stupid, stupid werewolf….I liked this shirt.

I smiled to myself as I realized how petulant I sounded. Maybe Esme was right—Bella really was bringing out the human teenager in me. Still, after the terror of nearly losing her—something I could never forgive myself for—it was such a relief to be so…happy. Levity had been forgotten before, dismissed, only returning in moments like these, so abnormally normal in a world like mine. It still felt so new, so novel, to be completely and utterly enchanted. It was almost as if I was discovering this new part of myself, a discovery made all the more precious for the fact that Bella was able to share it with me. But there was still a tragedy to it all, and that tragedy was that I was not human. There was only so much time that we could have together… I was not compromising my position, despite her efforts to weasel around it. Bella was going to remain human for as long as I could manage, come hell or high water. My experiences had taught me perseverance, and I was already naturally stubborn. There was a solution. There _had_ to be.

I watched as she fumbled with the cruiser's door latch, a multitude of little futile movements before she managed to swing the door open. Each hesitation, every mistake-- they were all such significant parts of her life. The charming blush, the innocence of her, her _soul_--she was already to sacrifice them, and for what? For me, for someone who could not give her the life that she deserved. Who was to say that she wouldn't change her mind? _Mine_ was set, and, though I believed she loved me… What if things changed? What, besides vampires themselves, ever did _not _change? Bella's own parents had married, only to fall apart later. It wasn't uncommon. People seemed to fall out of love almost as easily as they fell in it…

And then she turned to look at me, a wry little smile curling the edges of her mouth as she stepped from the car. My mind cleared, doubts fled, and I suddenly wished to laugh, but smiled instead. She rolled her eyes towards her father as she began to walk towards the front door, giving me an exasperated but loving look. I shook my head, putting the truck into "park" and gathering the groceries in one hand. Bella stopped, waiting for me to reach her side--I threaded my arm around her waist as Charlie ambled ahead of us. She turned her face to mine, nose crinkled in slight amusement. I raised one eyebrow by means of questioning, and she rolled her eyes again. I rolled my own in return--she snorted with laughter and I soon found that I could not hold back a chuckle of my own. Charlie glared over his shoulder at us as he unlocked the front door, sending Bella into a fit of giggles. I smiled, a crooked, lopsided_, imperfect_ smile--of course, the thing she liked about me best.


End file.
